


Planet of the Dead

by Del (goddessdel)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Because I Couldn't Resist, Episode: s04e15 Planet of the Dead, F/M, Fluff, POV Tenth Doctor, Where instead of Christina there is River Song, episode AU, episode rewrite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessdel/pseuds/Del
Summary: The Doctor loves Easter. All the sweets he can eat and a mysterious pinprick of a hole in the fabric of reality – it's practically as good as Christmas.He is just investigating the properties of a delicious chocolate Easter egg when he spots her boarding a bus, of all things. Impossible to miss her, really, what with that hair.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/River Song, The Doctor/River Song
Comments: 20
Kudos: 66





	Planet of the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Written: 8/20/14-5/10/20
> 
> I've been wanting to write this piece since the moment we saw River more than once, as you can probably tell. But it's always been in the background, and it's only recently that I decided to push and just get it finished. Because just _imagine_ : Planet of the Dead, but with _River Song_. 
> 
> Thanks to Beverly and Bree for their encouragement. And to Bree for the botanical garden shout-out.
> 
> All dialogue you recognize comes shamelessly from the episode, though I can't promise exactly the same people said it.

The Doctor loves Easter. All the sweets he can eat and a mysterious pinprick of a hole in the fabric of reality – it's practically as good as Christmas.

He is just investigating the properties of a delicious chocolate Easter egg when he spots her boarding a bus, of all things. Impossible to miss her, really, what with that hair. Professor River Song. Wearing a black cat suit that clings to her impressive curves and offering genuine diamond earrings in lieu of the local 21st century currency for a ride on a double-decker bus to Brixton. On a bus to Brixton that happens to be near a hole in reality.

It is too good of a mystery to pass up. The Doctor flashes his psychic paper and slips on board.

He's not seen her since their picnic at Asgard - well, he says picnic, but it was really more of them almost _being_ the Asgardian picnic. Being nearly roasted alive had not been all that appealing, really, but the rainbow bridge had made quite an impression.

Almost enough to forget his first meeting with the Professor.

She hasn't seen him yet, her frame tense and her eyes glued to the flashing lights and sirens just outside. The Doctor would wager there's a story there. He makes his way through the bus to her, plopping down in the seat next to River and taking another bite of his egg. "Hello, Professor Song!" When she just stares at him as though he's lost the plot, he realizes he's been perhaps a bit rude and offers some of the chocolate. "Happy Easter!"

River gives him something of a baffled look, as though she can't quite believe he's sitting next to her. Feeling more than a bit reflective, and not wanting to delve too deeply into reasons a woman from his future would be surprised to see him on a bus to Brixton, chasing rhondium particles, the Doctor starts talking again. "Funny thing is, I don't often do Easter, I can never find it - it's always at a different time. Although I remember the original - between you and me, what really happened was -" His pocket beeps, just as River seems to be biting back an amused smile, leaning in to hear his Easter story. "Oh, sorry, hang on to that for me -" he shoves the remaining egg into River's hands and she arches an eyebrow as if clearly asking how many of these he's had. And perhaps he'd better not let her in on that number, nor finish this one, if he still wants to fit into his suit by the end of the day. "Actually, go on, have it, finish it, full of sugar, and I am determined to keep these teeth."

Her smile is more amused than anything, as River takes a sharp bite of the egg, flashing her perfect, white teeth quite deliberately as she does so.

She looks about to say something, but the Doctor is caught up in his machine. "Oh, we've got excitation! I'm picking up something very strange."

River arches one eyebrow, staring at his machine skeptically. "I know the feeling."

The machine isn't quite working - it can't be, not with those readings - it was only a few particles - the little dish isn't moving - and, hang on, what does she mean by that? "Rhondium particles, that's what I'm looking for. This thing detects them, the little dish should go round, that little dish there..."

Eyes darting between the Doctor's machine and the visible police lights outside, River mutters, "Right now, a way out would come in pretty handy." She shakes her head at the broken device. "Can you detect one of those, sweetie?"

At last, the dish starts spinning. "Oh, the little dish is going round!"

"Fascinating."

He doesn't have to turn to note her sarcasm. River doesn't think it's working. And he's not sure either, actually. It's starting to move awfully fast. "And round. And round. Oh, blimey."

It spins so fast that the little dish flies right off the machine with a loud pop, nearly hitting one of the other passengers.

  
The woman glares. "Excuse me! Do you mind?!"

Sheepish, the Doctor glances helplessly between the woman, the machine, and River. "Sorry. That was my little dish."

The machine isn't totally broken though - the emergency sensors are still going wild. Even River suddenly seems more concerned than amused. "Doctor. What exactly was the little dish for? Did you say rhondium particles?"

There's no time though because the sensor readings are off the chart. This isn't just a few rhondium particles anymore - this is massive. "River, hold on tight." He raises his voice because if he's right, then this is a proper wormhole and they're about to go right through it. "Everyone! Hold on!"

They hit the wormhole and everything goes dark.

It's about as rough of a ride as he'd expected - well, not quite as bad as all that, since they seem to be making it through. Good old 21st century metal construction. Of course, that doesn't stop the bus from erupting into chaos. River seems relatively calm, her eyes slightly wide. Somehow, she's taken hold of the Doctor's hand. The other passengers are shouting out frantically, clinging to their seats. A few look like they might want to try to exit though, making to rise. "Stay in your seats! No one move!"

There's a burst of white light as they make it through, bright enough that it's blinding, even for the Doctor, and he squeezes his eyes closed, his fingers squeezing River's reassuringly at the same time. This means they've gotten through the first wormhole - good, that's good.

The woman from earlier is screaming, "Turn it off!"

With a thump, darkness returns. Just the last pass through now, but the bus is not holding up as good as the first wave, windows shattering and metal buckling. River shoves him down, shielding him, her hand somehow still tightly gripping his.

A man nearly falls down the stairs from the upper half. "What's going on-?"

Actually, that's a good question. They should be through by now, so why are they still moving? The Doctor stands, pulling River up with him. "Hold on - Driver - stop the bus!"

The poor bus driver, clearly terrified, slams on the brakes at once, sending everyone tumbling about. The Doctor finds his hand ripped from River's as he hits the floor, hard.

It stuns him for a second, and he is still shaking his head to clear the flash headache as River extends a hand and hauls him to his feet. The bus is nearly in pieces, sheets of twisted, broken metal littering the lower deck. Easy to see in the suddenly strong yellow light filtering through where the windows used to be.

The rest of the passengers are staring wide-eyed, and the Doctor doesn't blame them. They've just made it through a wormhole and to the other side in a double-decker bus.

Right. Only one thing to do - get outside and find out where they are.

The Doctor and River make for the doors at the same time. The hydraulics have gone, but together they manage to pry the doors open, stepping out into the bright light of what appears to be a vast desert world heated by three suns.

"End of the line. Call it a hunch, but I think we've gone a little bit further than Brixton." The bus itself is not much more than its frame. It's even still smoking slightly from the trip.

Several of the other passengers have followed them out.

The woman from the wheel incident seems fixated on the suns. "But that's impossible. There are three suns. Three of them!"

Oh humans, on their first trip to another world.

River doesn't seem that surprised, but then she wouldn't be, would she? Not the same woman who somehow found herself on archaeological expeditions across time and space.

One man counters, "Like when all those planets were up in the sky!"

River looks up sharply at that, and he wonders what she knows of the Earth being stolen by the Daleks. Was she there, somewhere on Earth? Or was she in another time on another planet and only heard about it as some historical artifact?

The one who almost fell down the stairs shakes his head slowly. "But that was Earth that moved, back then, wasn't it? This time it's us, we've moved. The whole bus."

The man who mentioned the planets looks panicked. "Oh man, we're on another world!"

The bus driver emerges, apparently having been attempting to start the engine with no luck, and bends to check the wheels, which are more than half-buried in the sand. He shakes his head, straightening. "It's still intact, though! Not as bad as it looks, the chassies' still holding together. Oh, my boss is gonna murder me."

The woman listens attentively to this assessment, hopeful. "But can you still drive it?"

The driver shakes his head. "Nah, the wheels are stuck. Look at them - they're never gonna budge."

The Doctor half listens to their conversation - the driver is right, the bus is in pretty good shape, considering. He's far more interested in the sand though. There's something about the sand.

River reaches into her pack and emerges with shades. She sees him watching and grins mysteriously as she slips them on. "Ready for every emergency."

"Me too," the Doctor protests, not to be outdone. He removes his spectacles long enough to sonic them darker, and he has to admit that they are quite a bit more useful against the glaring light of the three suns.

"Right then," River digs in her pack again and emerges with the battered blue diary she always keeps close, opening it to a marked place but not bothering to flip through the pages. "Where are we, sweetie?"

Her voice is a little too high and thin as she asks, and the Doctor studies her carefully from beneath his shades as he pretends to inspect the sand. "Well, you know, here and there." His response leaves her looking a bit bewildered, so he adds, "Picnicked at Asgard lately?"

River shakes her head, biting her lip. "No. Looking forward to it, though - I've always fancied visiting the Rainbow Road. Look at you though - you're young - younger than I've ever seen you."

The Doctor huffs, always annoyed (and just a bit relieved) at the implication that he's still too young for when she knows him. Or that he's young at all in his nine-ish hundreds. A woman who knows him well enough to know his name, well, she really ought to know better than to call a Time Lord young. "You say that every time we meet."

"Do I?" River offers a laugh that doesn't quite hit the mark, looking a little lost. "Well then, I'll be sure not to disappoint."

They meet each other's gaze behind shades and the Doctor wonders sharply what he'd find if he could properly look into River's eyes in this moment. He shakes off the notion, turning back to the sand.

Moment broken, River tucks her diary neatly back into her bag as though putting away an unnecessary prop.

There is something very wrong with the sand. It doesn't feel like sand. And that’s as good a topic as any to distract him from the mysterious blue book and its surprising lack of spoilers. "Funny sort of sand, this. There's a trace of something else..." Bringing up a handful, the Doctor dabs a bit on his tongue. It tastes awful, like - oh. "Ack." He spits it out quickly. "Blah. Pfft. Oh, not good."

River rolls her eyes, he can tell even though they're still hidden behind her shades. "Well, it wouldn't be; it's sand." But her voice is fondly exasperated, rather than the brittle quality of before, and the Doctor considers that it was almost worth licking the not-sand, just for that.

"No," he begins, "it tastes like -" he thinks better of it, with all the others around, in case they're listening in. "Never mind."

Catching on immediately that there's something more, River demands, "What is it? What's wrong?" as she bends to look closer at the Doctor and the sand, doing her own inspection.

He's saved from answering by an angry voice interrupting. "Hold on a minute, I saw you, mate! You had that thing, that machine - did you _make_ this happen?"

The Doctor sighs and stands. River immediately places herself subtly but pointedly between him and the angry man. "Oh, humans on busses, always blaming me - look, if you must know, I was tracking a hole in the fabric of reality. Call it a hobby. But it was a tiny little hole, no danger to anyone. Suddenly it gets big and we drive right through it."

The people from the bus are getting more agitated and the Doctor must admit that perhaps a hole in the fabric of reality might seem a wee bit frightening for 21st century humans.

The driver demands, "Then where is it? There's nothing, there's just - sand!"

The Doctor walks to the back of the bus, scooping up another handful of the not-sand and trying hard not to think about that. It happens to be the only thing around. River is still hovering near him, a bit over-protective. They're just scared, the people from the bus. He can't deny that scared humans on busses put him a bit on edge after Midnight, though. He wonders if River's reacting to his tension or if, in his future, he's told her about that terrible trip. She knew about Donna, after all. Resolutely shaking away all thoughts of Donna and what River Song may or may not know, the Doctor turns to the assorted humans. "All right, if you want proof - we drove through - this!" He hurls the not-sand at the place where the wormhole is shimmering just out of their visual range. It ripples and crackles, becoming visible even to human eyes.

While the rest of the small crowd looks on in awe, River watches the rippling door critically. "And that's-"

"A door," the Doctor answers quickly, more for the benefit of the rest of the group than for River. He has a suspicion that River might want the technical details, and he's perhaps a bit fuzzy on exactly how this particular wormhole turned up from a tiny little tear. "A door in space."

The driver steps closer in order to stare at the spot where the wormhole has returned to a faint shimmer. "So, what you're saying is, on the other side of that, is home? We can get to London through there?"

Was that what he'd said? He hadn't meant to. Making a face, the Doctor clarifies, "The bus came through, but we can't-"

He doesn't get a chance to finish his explanation before the driver is rushing past the Doctor and toward the wormhole.

The Doctor and River leap forward as one. "No, don't - I said, _don't_!" but his warning comes too late.

"I'm going home, mate!"

And the driver hits the wormhole just as the Doctor and River are reaching for him, not quite in time to pull him back.

The wormhole ripples ominously and the Doctor knows what's coming even though there's nothing he can do. Beside him, River stills as well, and he wonders if she knows.

With a wrenching scream, the bus driver is reduced to a walking skeleton as he passes into the wormhole, nothing but bones with a chance of making it home.

The rest turn away in horror and shock, not wanting to face what they'd just seen or what it means for their chances of getting home. River keeps her eyes on the spot where the man disappeared, and the Doctor wonders if she can see the fainter ripples still echoing out.

  
They never even knew the driver's name.

It's Midnight all over again, and the Doctor won't have that. He's lost too many people lately, important people, nameless people. He will not lose the rest of these passengers, caught up in a stray hole in reality and with no hope of getting home on their own.

All the wind seems to have gone out of the man who was blaming the Doctor earlier. He sits on the not-sand, clearly distraught, and the Doctor thinks it's a good thing he hasn't explained about the not-sand. "He was a skeleton, man. He was bones - just bones…"

"It was the bus," the Doctor offers, motioning to it. "Look at the damage - that was the bus protecting us. Great big box made of metal."

River has caught on, or maybe she'd already known. She doesn't seem surprised. "Like a Faraday cage."

The other man seems to be thinking this through, working it out. Not bad, considering what they've all just been through. "Like in a thunderstorm, yeah? Safest place is inside a car, 'cos the metal conducts the lightening right through. We did it in school!"

Chewing on her lip thoughtfully and shaking her head, River regards the bus. "But a Faraday cage needs to be closed. We can only travel back safely inside the bus, and that's been ripped right open."

It's not exactly the same, though it's hard to say whether River's actually mistaken or merely accommodating the other humans, and he really needs to stop wondering about River all the time when there's the bus issue to solve. Several issues, in fact. "Slightly different dynamics with a wormhole," he can't resist pointing out, even as he surveys the remainder of the bus, "there's enough metal to make it work. I think. I hope." Well, it's only _almost_ impossible, he thinks.

Shaking her head again, River seems about to call him out on how very nearly impossible that is, but then she seems to think better of it. She straightens and puts on what must be her Professor persona. "Then we have to drive five tons of bus, which is currently buried in the sand. And we've got nothing but our bare hands. Correct?"

Five tons is a bit optimistic, even if you consider the missing metal and windows. "I'd say nine and a half tons, but the point still stands, yes."

Though she glares at the correction, River seems on board with the plan, which is better than the rest of the assorted humans, who still look rather shell-shocked. Apparently, River also notices this because she addresses them directly, still in her Professor role. He shouldn't like that – kind of does, a bit. "Let's get to it then, shall we?" When her only response is blank, desolate stares, River sighs and turns back to the Doctor somewhat conspiratorially. "I think we're going to need to appoint a leader."

Ah, at last. Perhaps since River's the one who said it, the rest of the bus will forget their momentary mistrust. "Yes, at last. Thank you. So -"

Cutting over him and sounding far too amused, River offers cheekily, "Well, thank goodness you've got me!" While the Doctor is still too busy gaping at her to point out all the reasons he should clearly be the one in charge - why wouldn't he be in charge? - River calls out firmly to the other humans scattered across the not-sand. "Everyone, do exactly as I say. Inside the bus - immediately!"

"Is it safe in there?" worries the man who mentioned cars in thunderstorms, apparently not quite convinced in his own lessons.

Sounding entirely too pleased for comfort, River answers him briskly. "I don't think anything's safe anymore, but if it's a choice between baking in there or roasting out here, I'd say baking is slower. Come on. All of you! Right now."

The Doctor watches in a somewhat dumbfounded stupor as everyone quickly moves to obey River without another question. Usually he's the only one that can get that sort of stunned obedience in the face of danger. Usually, he's the one in charge.

Pausing almost inside the bus, River turns back and orders, "And you, Doctor."

Something about her tone sends a strange feeling down the Doctor's spine. As though she's used to giving such an order in considerably different circumstances. "Yes, ma'am," he replies, hurrying after her. He watches her lips curl up into an entirely inappropriate grin and thinks that he was right.

As soon as he's inside, River begins to marshal her troops. "All right, everyone, let's try not to panic. Quite apart from anything else, the smell of sweat inside this thing is reaching atrocious levels; we don't need to add any more." Her smile softens kindly, as her teasing seems to bring some life back into the dazed people huddled down in their seats. "Now then, I'm Professor River Song, and this is the Doctor."

Waving, the Doctor manages a cheerful, "Hello," as he sprawls out on a bench seat, feet up and coat off, and watches River taking charge, generally being as blatantly not in charge as possible until he's needed. Names are a good start - now that they've got a moment, it's much better to have everyone's names down so he can stop referring to them by incidents in his head.

Continuing, River turns to each of the others in turn. "And what are your names?"

The man who mentioned the thunderstorms, and generally seems the most together of the two that came outside, speaks up first. "Nathan."

The other man from outside hurries to follow. "I'm Barclay."

The woman who nearly got hit by the little wheel provides her full name. "Angela, Angela Whittaker."

The man from the couple that stayed inside the bus speaks for the both of them, the woman still looking more than a bit out of sorts. "My name's Louis - everyone calls me Lou - and this is Carmen."

River's nods, pleased and just a bit cheeky. "Excellent. Memorize those names - there might be a test." She winks at the Doctor and then turns to Angela, who is clutching several bags of shopping as though they're lifelines, and they very well might be. "Angela Whittaker, how much food have you got there?"

Angela shrugs slightly, still seeming a bit shaky. "It's just the weekly shop."

"Rations," River nods, seeming to take a mental note, even though Angela hardly provided enough details. "You're in charge of rations." She gently nudges Angela toward the most relevant issue, given the climate. "Any water?"

Angela digs about her sacks as though she cannot remember. "Just orange juice. And milk."

Rations, it's an interesting choice of wording. Something one might discuss for long archaeological digs, the Doctor supposes. After River adds that to her mental checklist, she instructs Angela, "Guard them with your life," very seriously.

The stern command seems to get through to the traumatized woman because Angela suddenly looks far more aware than she had done just a few minutes before. "I will do," she promises solemnly.

"Good girl," River praises, and the Doctor has to admit that she's doing an admirable job of keeping everyone together and functional when she turns that intense focus directly on the Doctor. "Now, what we need is a plan. You're up, Doctor."

The Doctor glances around exaggeratedly. "I thought you were in charge."

River gives him a look that says she thinks he's being a bit thick. "I am. A good leader utilizes her strengths. You're the man with all the plans, so go ahead, Doctor. Impress me."

It's a cheap trick - especially with the low, sinuous way River challenges him - but it works. He absolutely does want to impress this woman from his future who always seems to be a step ahead of him. The Doctor is used to being the cleverest person in the room and it's unsettling sharing that spotlight. He leaps up onto the top of the seat as River sits expectantly, crossing her legs and arms in a way that puts her black cat suit to rather spectacular - not that he's looking - effect. "Right. So, the wormhole! We were in the wrong place at the wrong time; it was just an accident -"

Carmen interrupts him, sounding terribly certain. "No. It wasn't."

"Best not to interrupt when he's thinking aloud," River admonishes calmly, as though she has more than a passing familiarity with his habits.

Then again, she probably does. But Carmen doesn't seem the rude type. "No, I don't mind." He goes to sit across from Carmen and senses more than sees River follow him. "Carmen, what is it? What do you mean?"

Carmen has a certain presence that even the rest of the bus seems to have recognized, for it has gone very quiet and still. "That thing - the doorway - someone made it for a reason." She has the faraway look and the calm certainty of someone with low level psychic abilities, but best to be certain. There could be many other explanations.

"How do you know?"

Lou answers for her, perhaps because Carmen is shy and perhaps to lend her the support of someone who believes in the supposed impossible. "She's got a gift. Ever since she was a little girl, she can just… tell things." Nobody else looks convinced, so he adds, "We do the lottery, twice a week."

River speaks up, also watching Carmen carefully. Her hand hovers over her pack as though she wants to pull something out of it but is restraining herself. "No offense, but millionaires rarely ride public transit."

Lou shrugs easily, unwavering. "No, but we win ten pounds. Every week, twice a week, ten pounds. Don't tell me that's not a gift!"

The Doctor watches her closely as he tucks one hand behind his back and holds up three fingers. "Tell me, Carmen, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Carmen answers immediately. "Three." The Doctor adds another finger and Carmen changes her answer almost the second he does so. "Four."

Definitely a low level psychic. Though she shouldn't be this good - oh, of course! "Very good! Low level psychic ability, exacerbated by an alien sun. So, what can you see, Carmen? Tell me." He leans closer, "What's out there?"

Carmen looks haunted again as she concentrates. "Something… something is coming. Riding on the wind. And… shining…"

Not a lot to go on, but she's almost there, he can tell. "What is it?" the Doctor urges quietly.

"Death. Death is coming."

Well, that's a bit overdramatic, but it would certainly explain the not-sand. Or maybe it doesn't. Might not be related.

While the Doctor is working through the limited information available and trying to come up with a clever plan - not because River requested it but because it's what he does - the rest of the bus is still reeling from Carmen's pronouncement, horrified.

It quickly devolves into panicked rambling and recriminations - humans - all doom and gloom at a silly little psychic prediction of death.

Attempting to restore order, River points out calmly, "This isn't exactly helping -"

But they don't want to be calmed. Barclay shouts over her angrily, "You can shut up too! We're not your soldiers -"

Which just sets the others off worse. River is still talking calmly, trying to reason with everyone all at once, but the Doctor has seen enough of scared humans on busses and he is in no mood to baby them.

The Doctor clears his throat and stands, shouting over them until he has their undivided attention and silence. "All right, now stop it, everyone. Stop it!" He starts with the most distraught, "Angela, look at me. Angela, answer me one question. Angela, that's it, at me, there we go. Angela, answer me one thing -" he waits until he as everyone's attention, and then asks, "when you got on this bus, where were you going?"

Angela is still shaky and borderline hysterical as she answers, but she seems to be keeping it in check for the moment. "Doesn't matter now, does it?"

He's not going to lose her now that he's got her attention on something other than fear. "Answer the question."

"Just home."

Good. "And what's home?"

As she answers, Angela's whole demeanor calms, soothed by the vision she is calling up of her home. "Me. And Mike. And Suzanne. That's my daughter. She's 18."

"Suzanne. Good," the Doctor acknowledges encouragingly. From the corner of his eye, he sees River smiling at him and looking impressed. He turns to Barclay next, steadily working his way through the least calm individuals and trying to soothe their fears. "And you?"

"I dunno," Barclay mumbles, "I was just going round to Tina's."

It's a start. The Doctor grins, teasing, "Who's Tina? Your girlfriend?"

Of all things, Barclay actually smiles. He shrugs, bashful. "Not yet."

Oh humans. That's what he loves about humans - they wear their heart on their sleeve. Even in the face of an alien world and a dead bus driver, it's the little things that keep them going. From doom to peace at the reminder of home. "Good boy." Nathan is next, "What about you, Nathan?"

Nathan answers honestly, "Bit strapped for cash - I lost my job last week. I was gonna stay in. Watch TV."

Nothing wrong with that. "Brilliant," he turns back to Lou and Carmen, "and you two?"

Lou answers proudly, "I was going to cook."

Looking decidedly fond, Carmen smiles and informs the group, "It's his turn tonight. Then I have to clear up."

The Doctor prods them further, pleased that Carmen seems to be coming back to herself. "And what's for tea?"

"Chops," Lou is definitely proud of his cooking. "Nice couple of chops, and gravy." He shrugs then, modest - the man that considers winning twenty quid a week at the lottery to be more than enough of a gift. "Nothing special."

Right, that's enough to go on. He addresses each of them in turn, "Far away. Chops and gravy. Watching TV. Mike and Suzanne and poor old Tina."

Barclay is still smiling as he protests the teasing, "Hey!"

"Just think of them," the Doctor continues. "'Cos that planet out there - all three suns and wormholes and alien sand - that planet is _nothing_. Do you hear me? Nothing, compared to all those things waiting for you. Food and home and people - hold on to that. 'Cos we're gonna get there. I promise. I'm gonna get you home."

The humans all look suitably reassured. They believe him. The Doctor swallows hard and hopes he's not lying to them. He has to bite back a great swell of jealousy - there's none of that waiting at home for him. No home to go to, really.

Next to him, he sees River's smile waver, tight at the edges, and thinks that maybe she knows exactly how he feels.

…

River and the Doctor are inspecting the wheels. Well, the Doctor is inspecting them, and River is smirking at him, one hand on her hip - very clearly waiting to see whether or not his plan will work.

Nathan and Barclay choose that opportune moment to run up with the backs of the bus seats in their hands. "Here we go," Barclay offers proudly.

The Doctor has to admit, it's much better than the angry, terrified boy of earlier. "That's my boys! Do you see? We lay a flat surface between the bus and the wormhole, like duckboards, and we reverse onto it."

River nods to the men. "Let some air out of the tires - just a little bit - spreads the weight of the bus; gives you more grip against the sand."

"Oh, that's good," it slips out before the Doctor can stop himself.

River grins, cat that ate the canary. "Holidays in the Kalahari."

The Doctor is distracted from wondering if those holidays are _spoilers_ by Barclay looking dubiously at the not-sand. "Yeah, but those wheels go deep."

Shrugging, River offers, "Then start digging."

Glancing around, Barclay demands, "With what?"

River reaches into her bag and emerges with a folded up spade, which she snaps open with a sharp flick of her wrist. She grins smugly and offers the spade to the Doctor, who mutely passes it along, not quite sure what to say. "With this."

Barclay is clearly impressed. "Oh, nice one!"

As he starts digging, River reaches back into her bag and emerges with, of all things, an axe, which she hands to Nathan. "Try this - might help with the seats."

"Thanks!" Nathan shouts as he hurries back onto the bus.

The Doctor is too busy gaping to comment. He hurriedly turns his attention back to the wheels when River turns back to him, so she doesn't catch him out staring. He doesn't know if he should be surprised or not. An archaeologist might carry around a spade, but an axe? Of course, every other time he's seen her, River Song has been armed with some sort of gun, so perhaps an axe is an improvement?

His curiosity is about to get the better of him when Angela calls out, "I can't find the keys!"

The Doctor turns his attention back to the plan-in-progress. "No, busses don't have keys. There's the master switch, then it's one button for start, the other button for stop, yeah?"

"Right," Angela calls back, clearly looking about for the buttons, "Hold on, I've got it. Here we go. Hold tight. Ding, ding!"

The bus engine turns over with a shuddering groan and the bus jolts once, ominously.

The Doctor clicks his tongue, thinking. "Doesn't sound too good."

Still managing the others effortlessly, River calls out, "That's enough for now, Angela - don't flood it. Give us a sec," and makes her way to the engine when Angela has turned it back off.

The Doctor follows her, peering dubiously inside once the smoke has cleared enough. "Never mind losing half the top deck, do you know what's worse? Sand. Tiny little grains of sand. The engine's clogged up."

After a quick, thorough glance, River nods with a sigh. Usually the Doctor can fix any engine, and he suspects River might not be a bad sight at it herself from the way she's tilting her head and eyeing the sand-clogged air-filter, but sand is another matter entirely. A few crossed wires and improved parts aren't going to fix an engine that is bogged down by omnipresent fine particles of sand or not-sand, as the case may be. River pokes her head over the engine, "Anyone know mechanics?"

"Me!" Barclay volunteers, and the Doctor thinks that all the boy's earlier angry bravado was just a cry for attention. "I did a two-week NVO at the garage. Never finished it, but…"

"Off you go then," the Doctor encourages, clapping him on the back and quickly swapping places with the boy. "Try stripping the air filter, fast as you can. I'll be back in two ticks."

River is by his side instantly, not that he'd really expected anything else. "Hold up, sweetie. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

There doesn't seem to be any arguing with that, even if he wanted to, so the Doctor starts off at a quick pace, fully expecting River to more than keep up, even with her pack weighing her down, and the black cat suit probably boiling in the heat. Of course, the Doctor should be hot in his suit, but Time Lords are more impervious to temperature fluctuations than humans and he left his coat in the bus.

They're silent until they are several not-sand dunes away from the bus. The Doctor is mulling over River and the wormhole and the not-sand and Easter. Just his luck that he finally found Easter and, at this rate, he's going to miss the whole thing.

He expects River to be the one to say something first, but she remains stubbornly silent, a knowing grin curving her lips.

Trying for casual, the Doctor lets his curiosity get the better of him. "Easier if you left that backpack behind."

River just smirks at him. "Where I go, it goes."

She's never had a backpack before. He wonders if mentioning that would be _spoilers_. "A backpack with a spade and an axe." He raises his eyebrow, pausing to watch her response. "And quite a fascination with sirens. Who are you, Professor?"

River just snorts, fixing him with an enigmatic look. "You can talk. Let's just say we're two equal mysteries."

It's not nearly as much fun when someone else is being mysterious. The Doctor hopes he doesn't come off as pompous as that. He has a sneaking suspicion he might be worse, though. He shakes his head, amused. "We make quite a couple."

  
Almost immediately, he wants to take it back. He hadn't meant - well he had, sort of - he had his suspicions, but he tried not to think about River in his future and whether they were a couple or not. He wasn't sure he could bear to find out - not after…

But River just brushes him off with a laugh, even if it is a tidge high. "Fishing, sweetie? _Spoilers_." She stops and looks at him for a moment before completely changing the topic, much to his combined relief and annoyance. "Come on, then. Tell me. If Carmen's right - if that wormhole's not an accident, then what is it? Has someone done this on purpose?"

"I don't know," the Doctor admits, and somehow it's easier to say to River than it usually is. There's something comfortable about being around her - about someone who can keep up. "But every single instinct of mine is telling me to get off this planet, right now."

River nods, looking instantly anxious. Just like the first time they met, she believes him immediately and without question. If he says there's danger, River believes that there is. What has he done to earn such faith and loyalty? It's a terrifying thought. River cuts through it, voicing his own fear. "And do you think we can?"

The Doctor shrugs her concern off, winking and continuing on. "I live in hope."

River snorts again, her posture relaxing as she teases him with an easy familiarity. "That must be nice." They're still standing, baking in the hot sun, when River pins him under her gaze. "Where are _you_ , sweetie?"

Hands in his pockets, the Doctor does his best to dodge the question. They've already covered her little blue book, but River is clearly looking for something else. "Oh, you know, just been knocking about on my own for a bit."

He thinks he comes off convincingly nonchalant, but River's eyes narrow. "On your own?" Her voice is tight, pinched.

"Nothing wrong with that," the Doctor defends himself. "You're traveling alone."

River sighs heavily. "At the moment, yes. But you should never travel alone, Doctor. You _know_ that."

There's a tense moment between them, filled with _something_ that the Doctor doesn't want to examine too closely. He claps his hands and spins away, breaking the connection. "Anyway - come on. _Allons-y_!"

Without missing a beat, River replies in perfectly accented French, " _Oui, mais pas si nous allons vers un cauchemar_."

"Oh we were made for each other!" Thoughts like that keep slipping out. He doesn't mean to be flirting, not really, but it's as if he can't help himself around River. Thankfully, River doesn't push him on these little slips - flirting back easily but lightly.

He's saved from this uncomfortable self-reflection - seems to happen strangely often around River - by finally reaching the crest of the dune. Far off at the horizon is a thin, dark strip, like a tidal wave or a massive storm cloud, except it isn't either of those. "Ah. Don't like the look of that…"

River squints at the cloud behind her sunglasses, looking a bit perplexed, as though she can't quite put her finger on what she's looking at. The Doctor knows the feeling. "Storm clouds. Must be hundreds of miles away."

She's right, or she was a few seconds ago. The mileage is quickly closing. Too quickly for storm clouds. "But getting closer."

He thinks he could get addicted to watching River's mind work. It's a race to keep up with her, and the novelty of that might never wear off. She's doing the maths on the speed of the storm and the wind required to move it that fast. "If that's a sand storm we'll get ripped to shreds."

"It's a storm," he waits until River glances back at him, wary, before he lets her in on the uneasy thought still forming somewhere in his mind. Not-sand and now a not-storm. "Who said it's sand?"

There's really no question. River and the Doctor eye each other for a second before they're turning as one and making for the bus at top speed. River keeps up despite her shorter legs and heavy pack, and he'd be impressed if there weren't not-clouds moving toward them faster than they can run. And a bus full of people relying on them to save everyone.

He needs reinforcements. River is a force to be reckoned with, but unless she has full meteorological gear in her pack - he's more than a bit tempted to ask - it's time to call in a favor.

"Barclay - phone!" He's already shouting as they bolt down the dunes.

Barclay pops up from behind the bus, River's spade in hand, blinking in the sun and looking uncomprehending.

The Doctor makes a gesture for a phone out of this hand, "I need your mobile!"

That gets Barclay on his feet. "In the bus!" By the time River and the Doctor reach the bus, Barclay has made his way around to them.

  
They all hit the doors at almost the exact same time, rushing through. The Doctor leaves River to secure the doors - though it hardly matters with the frame in shambles, hurrying toward Barclay's original seat with the man himself right on his heels. "Where is it?" The Doctor demands, already rummaging for the mobile he remembers seeing before the wormhole.

Barclay is better under pressure than the Doctor had originally given him credit for. "There, on the seat," he points helpfully.

Lou speaks up from the back, where he's sitting with a clearly distraught Carmen. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the Doctor hurries to reassure the wide-eyed passengers as he snatches up the phone. "I just need this!"

River has followed him and is watching the proceeding with thinly veiled exasperation. "Who are you going to phone, Doctor? We're on an abandoned planet."

"Oh, just you wait, River Song." He sonics the phone to boost the signal and tries not to feel smug that he's going to impress her. "Right, now, a bit of hush, thank you!" Of course, he has to remember the number. Oh, he remembers lots of numbers, but which was the one for UNIT? He remembers the number for a truly excellent French bistro in the 29th century... No, it's got to be... "I've got to remember the number. A very important number-" He dials, pressing the speaker button and holding the phone out while it dials.

A very bored, disembodied voice picks up. "Hello, Pizza Geronimo, can I take your order?"

The Doctor clicks the call off quickly, already scrambling to figure out which number was off. River looks like she's trying to hide a laugh, but everyone else is just stunned that he'd just made a phone call at all.

If that was Pizza Geronimo then... "And again," he dials quickly, "7-6, not 6-7," really, anyone could have made that mistake.

The automated voice that picks up sounds just as bored but considerably more official. Bingo. "This is the Unified Intelligence Taskforce. Please select from one of the following four options. If you want to report a UFO sighting, press one..."

The Doctor stares at the phone, annoyed. He'd expected UNIT to at least have a receptionist. "Ahhh... hate these things!"

River is still silently laughing at him, no help at all.

It's Angela who speaks up first, while the Doctor is punching in buttons and considering tossing the phone out the window. "No, if you keep your finger pressed on zero, you get through to a real person. I saw it on Watchdog!"

The Doctor grins at Angela, pressing zero. "Thank you, Angela!"

This time, at least, there is a person. "UNIT helpline, which department would you like?"

The Doctor spares a smug look for River, who holds her hands up in a _very impressive - so what now_ gesture that makes him gnash his teeth together in frustration. "Listen, it's the Doctor! It's me!"

River snorts somehow delicately, turning to Angela with a long-suffering sigh. "The worst part is - that usually works."

Does it? Well, that's a relief.

The operator suddenly sounds much more interested in the conversation, "Just a moment, Sir, I'll transfer you right away. It's about the Gladwell Road Tunnel, yeah? We've got someone out there now."

The Doctor winces at 'sir' and River rolls her eyes, but there's no time to correct the operator before he's put on hold again, cheerful UNIT music playing in the background, completely out of place on their little bus.

The music doesn't have time to loop before a woman picks up, sounding all military and official. "Doctor, this is Captain Erisa Magambo." There's a pause that can only mean one thing in the military - a salute. The Doctor winces. "Might I say, it's an honor, Sir."

River is trying not to laugh again, her mouth hidden behind one hand and her eyes sparkling. Right, important things first. He addresses Erisa. "Did you just salute?"

There's a pause before the Captain responds, "No," in a way that just confirms she had done.

The others are staring at him in disbelief. And, moving right along. "Erisa, it's about the bus. HQ said you're at the tunnel, yeah?"

"And where are you?" comes the confirmation.

"I'm on the bus! But apart from that, not a clue," his eyes are drawn to River, and he can't help but wink at her, just a bit, "except that it's very pretty and pretty dangerous."

River mouths ' _thank you, sweetie_ ,' and the Doctor hurriedly turns his attention back to the mobile.

Erisa sounds uncomfortable now, like a bearer of bad news. "A body came through here... Have you sustained any more fatalities?"

Oh, the poor driver. Everyone looks somber at the reminder; though it was obvious the man hadn't made it. The Doctor's response is more for his charges than Erisa. "No, and we're not going to." He meets everyone's eyes individually, ending on River, who looks as though she doesn't believe him. Well, he'll just have to impress her again. He just has to get a better look at the storm. "But I'm stuck - I haven't got the TARDIS - and I need to analyze that wormhole -"

Erisa doesn't let him finish, already walking briskly somewhere. "We've got a scientific advisor on site, Dr. Malcolm Taylor. Just the man you need - he's a genius."

He doesn't have to look up to hear River's amused little snort again. The Doctor pouts - first he's not the one in charge, and now someone else is the genius. "Oh, is he? We'll see about that."

There's the sound of a door opening and closing, and then the conversation through the phone is muffled but still clear enough to make out.

The phone sounds far away from Erisa's voice, as though she's holding it out. "It's the Doctor."

"No, I'm much better now, it was just a little bit of a sore throat, although I've got to say, a cup of tea would be nice -" rambles a man, clearly under the wrong impression.

"It's _the_ Doctor," Erisa repeats, a bit more forcefully, and the Doctor can't help being a bit smug. And not just because River said that always works.

"D'you mean.... _the Doctor_ -Doctor!?" The man holding the phone suddenly sounds awed, and the Doctor fidgets, uncomfortable with the hero-worship that he doesn't deserve.

"I know. We all want to meet him one day. But we know what that day will bring."

Oh, not Erisa too! Good, steady, in charge Erisa. The Doctor rubs at his eyes and interjects before he can discover if River can look any more smug. "I can hear everything that you're saying."

There's a brief scramble over the phone, as though it was almost dropped, and then the man - presumably Malcom Taylor, squeals and picks it up, shouting, "Hello. Doctor. Oh my goodness!"

The Doctor jerks the phone away from his ear. "Yes I am," but he can't resist a slight grin - well, maybe it's not so bad getting a bit of recognition for once. "Hello, Malcolm!"

"Doctor! Oh blimey. I can't believe I'm actually speaking to you! I've read all the files!"

Does UNIT still have all those old files? "Really? What was your favorite, the giant robot?" River is rolling her eyes, and the Doctor reins his curiosity back. "No, hold on, let's deal with this wormhole -" which, actually, he'd rather not do with easily panicking humans around. He focuses his attention on the bus for just a moment, hand over the speaker, "'Scuse me," and then hurries to the driver's seat to put a bit of distance between him and the others. River follows, of course.

There's a bit of a rustle at the other end of the line, Erisa complaining, "On speakerphone, please. I need to monitor every word he says," background noise filtering back in as Malcolm complies.

As soon as they're far enough from the other passengers, the Doctor begins, serious and keeping his voice low. "Malcolm, something is not making sense here. I've got a storm and a wormhole, and I can't help thinking there's a connection. I need a complete full-range analysis of that wormhole - the whole thing."

Malcolm responds immediately, managing that unique combination of confident and nervous that marks him as a proper scientist. "Well, I've probably got the wrong idea, but I've wired up an integrator. I thought it could measure the energy signature -"

Really, this is their so-called genius? It's a good thing they've got him on the line. "No, that'll never work. Just listen to me -"

Malcolm continues right over him, leaving the Doctor gaping a bit at being interrupted. This is really not his day so far. "It's quite extraordinary, though! It's measuring an oscillation of 15 Malcolms per second."

The Doctor blinks, glancing at River, who shrugs, still looking far too amused. "Fifteen what?"

"Fifteen Malcolms. It's my own little term. A wavelength parcel of 10 kilohertz operating in four dimensions equals 1 Malcolm."

The Doctor blinks again. Definitely a scientist. "You named a unit of measurement after yourself?"

Malcolm doesn't seem in the least bit chastened. "Never did Mr. Watt any harm. Furthermore, one hundred Malcolms is a Bernard."

The Doctor scrubs a hand over his face, exasperated. "Who is that - your dad?"

Malcolm huffs. "Don't be ridiculous - that's Quatermass."

"Right," the Doctor draws out the word, doing the calculations in his head with Malcolm's ridiculous units, "Fine. But, before I die of old age - which, in my case, would be quite an achievement, so congratulations on that - is there anyone else I can talk to?"

River is laughing again, and the Doctor is starting to feel as though his actually-quite-impressive plan is not going to, well, _plan_.

"No, but listen!" Malcolm continues, ignoring or missing the Doctor's lack of confidence entirely. "I set the scanner to register what it can't detect and inverted the image."

The Doctor is about to hang up the phone when he realizes what Malcolm said. He sits up, and River falls silent next to him, suddenly intent. "You did what?"

Of course, that is the moment Malcolm falters. "Is that wrong?"

"No, Malcolm, that is brilliant! So you can actually measure the wormhole?! Okay, I admit, that is genius."

There's an excited noise from Malcolm, "The Doctor called me a genius!"

Erisa sounds fondly exasperated. "I know, I can hear."

The Doctor ignores the bit of fawning, still working through the calculation in his head and trying to get an idea of Malcolm's system. "Now, run a capacity scan. I need a full report. Call me back when you've done it." He pauses, grinning. Malcolm may have just saved them after all, and much quicker than the Doctor had hoped. "And Malcolm? You're my new best friend!"

"And you're mine too! Sir."

The Doctor clicks off the line, already working through his plan, and fighting back the urge to demand that they stop calling him 'sir'. River is right beside him as he starts for the door, holding up the phone and shouting back to Barclay, "Barclay, I'm holding onto this!"

"You'd better bring it back," comes the reply, and then the Doctor and River are out the door and heading for the not-sand dunes at speed.

They make it up quicker than before, and the Doctor quickly finds the phone's video function, focusing on the storm - closer now. "Send this back to Earth, maybe Malcolm can analyze the storm..."

River is squinting at the storm, and she catches the Doctor's arm, her hand small but strong as it lingers on his arm. 'There's something in those clouds. Something shining, look..."

There is something glinting. "Like metal."

"Metal in a storm," River replies, clearly working through it out loud, as the Doctor often does.

Whatever it means, it's not good.

River stiffens, her hand tightening on his arm. "Did you hear something?"

The Doctor is still focused on his video, trying to get all the data that Malcolm and his machine might need. "Hold on. Busy."

"There was a noise, like a sort of..." River turns and freezes. "Doctor."

The way she says his name draws the Doctor's attention instantly. Just as she takes him at his word when something is dangerous, the Doctor is starting to trust the different tones to River's voice that say she is serious about something.

He turns in the direction River has. There is a figure, vaguely but not-exactly humanoid, moving toward them. Hard to make out with the blinding suns.

"River," the Doctor hisses, "Don't move," and he raises his hands, very slowly.

River hesitates only a second before releasing him, her hands also inching skyward.

Finally, the figure is close enough to make out. The Doctor can't mask his relief. It's a Tritovore. Friendly, insectoid, should have a ship in this century. Maybe they won't have to wait on Malcolm to be rescued. Well, this Tritovore is pointing a blaster at them, but still.

The Tritovore is not pleased. " _I should shoot you dead here for what you've done._ "

The Doctor responds in Tritovorite quickly, hands still up. " _Wait! Now, just hang on a minute!_ " He turns to River to translate, "That's 'wait'. I shout wait, and people usually wait."

River rolls her eyes again, apparently something she does around him frequently. Her fingers are twitching though, as though she's not inclined to keep them raised much longer. The Doctor wonders if he should have told her to wait as well. "I speak the language."

The Doctor blinks, attention riveted to River. "You speak Tritovorite? What else do you speak?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she's flirting with him at gunpoint. He shouldn't find that absolutely exhilarating.

The Tritovore does not seem to share the Doctor's assessment. " _Shut up and prepare to die._ "

Right, time for drastic measures. " _Wait! Mercy! Don't kill us!_ "

River makes an annoyed sound. "Begging for mercy, really? It's him who should be begging."

After a moment of watching them with his multi-faceted eyes, the Tritovore shouts, " _I shall take you to the commander to decide your fate. Move,_ " and jabs his blaster at them.

River eyes the gun with distaste but nods at the Tritovore, even though she is still speaking English. "Lucky for him, he made the right choice after all."

He should be appalled by the quiet threat in her voice, rather than curious. The River Song he's met has been calm under pressure and ready to run at a moment's notice. Just in this moment, though, she seems suddenly dangerous.

The Doctor is slowly learning that, with River Song, nothing is ever as he expected.

They're silent on the walk to the Tritovore ship, which doesn't look like it will make much of a rescue vehicle in the condition it's in.

River eyes the cracked ship buried in the not-sand. "The ship is a wreck - they crashed."

"Yes," the Doctor agrees, "just like us."

The question really is - what could bring down a Tritovore ship when there doesn't seem to be anything on this planet at all... except for the not-storm. And what was a Tritovore ship doing on an abandoned planet anyway?

Their guard walks them into the ship at gunpoint. River seems completely relaxed but her hand reaches out almost instinctively for his. The Doctor takes it because it's only polite, and notices that her hand is icy in his, gooseflesh spotting her skin.

River huffs in a quick breath, shifting closer to him. "Ohh, but this place is freezing."

He forgets, sometimes, how temperature extremes affect humans. He squeezes her hand before releasing it to rub across her arm, trying to warm her up and babbling to avoid over-analyzing the gesture. "The hull's made of Photafine Steel - turns cold when it's hot. Boiling desert outside, freezing ship inside - since I found you, River, we've been through all the extremes."

"That's how I like things. Extreme." River arches one eyebrow and inches closer, probably trying to steal his warmth.

"Oh, this is beautiful," the Doctor replies rather than voicing the questions on the tip of his tongue, which are far from appropriate for the situation at hand, quickly looking around at the ruined ship when River's brow inches higher at that pronouncement. "Intact, it must've been magnificent. A proper, streamlined deep-spacer!"

River blows her curls out of her face. "I'll be sure to take a moment to appreciate that as we're being slowly tortured, sweetie." She seems amused and unconcerned, despite her gloomy prediction for their fate. Perhaps it's for their captor's benefit or his. "Always best to be bleeding on the floor of a really well-designed spaceship."

He's saved from a reply - because how does he reply to that, really, and how many spaceships has she found herself bleeding on the floor of? (he doesn't like the idea of her bleeding even a little bit) - when they finally reach the control room. It's in the same disarray as the rest of the ship: fallen girders, not-sandy floor, broken consoles.

There's also another Tritovore waiting from them, looking put out and in charge as he's filled in on their capture. He takes a device from the wall that the Doctor recognizes as a translator and clamps it to his chest before switching it on. " _I am Commander Praygat_."

The Doctor grins to show that the test worked, speaking in English for River's benefit and because the TARDIS is the only reliable translator of Gallifreyan. "Oh, right, good, yes, hello!" He turns to River, "That's a telepathic translator! He can understand us!"

Neither River nor Praygat look impressed. Which means the translator is working, at least. " _We have brought you here as our prisoners. This machine allows me to understand your primitive tongue. Lying is futile._ "

River straightens, edging her body slightly in front of the Doctor, apparently ignoring the cold for the moment. " _I take exception to the term 'primitive'. And who said we were 'prisoners'? Your ship is in ruins. You couldn't keep us here if you tried._ "

Her Tritovorite is spot on and the Doctor has to admit that he's impressed. She's also antagonizing the only people with anything resembling a ship and very large guns. The Doctor frowns at River, and then offers the Tritovores what he hopes is a reassuring grin. "We came here voluntarily!"

Praygat looks infuriated. " _You are our prisoners. You will suffer for your crimes, the pain of ten suns burning down on you; you will know the wrath of the Tritovores. You have committed an act of violence against the Tritovore race - you came here in the 200 to destroy us!_ "

Seeing that Praygat is gearing up for a full monologue on the varied punishments he is hoping to devise that might be appropriate for their supposed crimes, the Doctor interrupts quickly, latching on the details of their supposed crime itself. "Sorry, what's the 200?"

River nudges him subtly, her hand catching his with the motion, steady despite the cold. "It's the bus - number 200. They mean the bus."

But that doesn't make any sense. How did they destroy them in a double-decker bus? "No, look, I think you're making a mistake - I'm the Doctor, by the way, and this is River, Professor River Song, that is - but we got pulled through that wormhole! The 200 doesn't look like that normally, it's broken, just the same as you!"

The Tritovore who found them on the not-sand dune glances between them before turning to Praygat. " _A wormhole? If their ship is broken then they could not have attacked us?_ "

Praygat nods slowly, considering. " _Stand down. They may have useful knowledge._ "

Both Tritovores lower their guns, looking properly apologetic for the earlier overreaction. The Doctor doesn't mind - crashing unexpectedly and being stranded on this planet, all alone and surrounded by the not-sand, would certainly be enough to put anyone on edge. The Tritovores are normally a mild, reasonable race.

River's eyes do not leave the lowered weapons, nor does her stance relax. "Just like that?"

The Doctor squeezes her hand, offering everyone his widest grin. "They believe me. I've got a very honest face!"

Relaxing marginally, River shifts closer to him for warmth, sharing a roll of her eyes with the Tritovores, though they don't actually roll their eyes because they have compound eyes and - well, the gesture is there, nonetheless. "The translator said you were telling the truth, sweetie."

It appears that River never lets him get away with anything. Well, he's still determined to impress her. Stubborn, the Doctor insists, "And the face!" When River's lips tug into a slight smile, he grins at her and bounds over to the console, more than ready to find out what is actually going on. "Right! So! First things first, there's a very strange storm heading our way, can you send out a probe?"

Praygat shakes his head sadly, gesturing to the ruined console. " _We have a probe, but no way to power it. The crash disrupted all power and communications._ "

Which explains the extreme cold - usually the auxiliary systems would be keeping the temperature more moderate. The Doctor had been wondering about that. "Ah, hold on," the Doctor bends closer to examine the controls. "The crash knocked the mainline crystallography out of synch, but if I can jiggle it back -" it takes a bit of fiddling, one well-placed kick - and the Doctor notices River doing something with wires out of the corner of his eye - and then the console lights up, "I - thank you!" He does his best smug impersonation, straightening to smirk at River and already starting to dig through their mainframe, calling up the probe commands.

Praygat regards the functioning console with something of the awe that the humans on the bus had been lacking. " _You are a miracle-worker!... and a madman._ "

The Doctor can't resist preening just slightly, mostly for River's benefit, though she may have helped just slightly - and oh, he'd be interested to know where she learned about mainline crystallography... "Yes I am! Frequently. Okey-doke, let's launch that probe," and slams down the lever to launch.

It takes more than a few moments for the probe to get far enough from the planet to determine where they are in the wide universe.

  
The Doctor dons his spectacles - untinted, again - and settles down to wait in the darkened console room with River. At some point, the Tritovores wander out, muttering something about further repairs now that the mainline crystallography is restored.

It's a bit quiet and intimate, and the Doctor tries not to think about it too closely when River leans into his side and it feels natural to wrap his arm around her. It's just for warmth, he rationalizes, knowing she's cold and wishing he'd brought his coat after all to offer her.

He worries that River is going to say or do something he's not ready for, something that will make him think more deeply on who she'll be to him in his future or why he feels a pang of distress at the idea of her being uncomfortable. But River merely sits silently with him, leaning into his side and watching the console, following the probe's progress.

The Doctor tilts his head to watch River and she turns naturally to face him, a small, genuine smile on her face. At a loss for something to say, the Doctor manages, "No blood and torture after all today, eh?" Thinking back to their near roasting on Asgard, he wonders if this is a bit of a theme for them. He also wonders why that idea doesn't bother him as much as it should.

Something flashes across River's eyes but she merely teases back, "Day's not over yet, sweetie."

He's just opening his mouth to ask her - something - when the probe beeps to announce it is about to send back data.

A nebula projects into the console room, nearly on top of them, a starfield blooming into the darkness, all gasses and lights. It's beautiful, inspiring a bit of hush and awe as the Doctor squeezes River's arm and lets her go reluctantly, scanning the stars for landmarks.

"The Scorpion Nebula," he realizes.

River offers a sad smile, straightening in her seat. "We're on the other side of the universe."

The Doctor shoots her a look, wondering at her knowledge of the planets and aliens, but he quickly turns back to the data projected on the screen. That's half the answer, but... ah, there. "The planet of.... San Helios."

The planet zooms in, and River quickly points to a particular set of valleys. "And that's us." She's right, though she could only know that if she'd calculated by the position of the three suns and the nebula, which is more than a bit impressive.

There's something off about the image though. It's not probe data, like the nebula, but archival imagery from the computer banks. The planet it shows is lush and green, lakes and mountains and not a desert in sight. The Doctor frowns, glancing at River again. "Have you been here before?" That could explain her knowledge, at least. Maybe she'd even know what happened to the lush planet in the archival data.

Their hosts have returned, watching the image silently.

River's head tilts as she watches the planet rotate, as though she's as concerned as the Doctor about the image before them versus the wasteland outside. But she turns with a small smile at the Doctor's question, her shoulder nudging his. "First time."

It sounds somehow illicit coming from River's mouth, but the Doctor can't resist replying in kind. "Good, isn't it?" There's something about visiting a new planet for the first time that just thrums with excitement.

River's smile grows and she leans closer, his eyes drawn to her lips as she forms a single word. "Exceptional."

Praygat interrupts, with a tone that might be wistful or distressed. " _We were here as a Trade Delegation._ "

River straightens and turns toward their hosts at this information. "Trade?"

From memory, the Doctor explains, "San Helios. Population of one hundred billion. Plenty of waste matter for them to absorb." The Tritovores are evolved from a fly-like species, and it's all perfectly natural. If River speaks the language, she's likely familiar with their dietary habits.

The Tritovores nod at his summation, adjusting the feed to show the landscape and cities of San Helios, lush and fully populated.

River frowns, distracted by the images on the screen, though her voice is teasing. "Charming. Just remind me never to kiss them." She winks at the Tritovores anyway.

He turns to her, wondering if she's in the habit of kissing strange people and aliens and why that thought makes him a bit queasy. It's not their proboscis that is upsetting - though he does imagine that would make kissing a bit of a challenge - but the idea of River... well, he'd rather thought that, if she kissed anyone, perhaps it ought to be him.

Looking slightly greener - and the Doctor is a bit impressed that River's managed to make a Tritovore blush - Praygat focuses the screen on one city in particular. " _Here is where our delegation was meant to land: San Helios City._ "

River's eyes devour the screen - _archaeologist_. "That's amazing. The architecture alone. We should go back sometime - see it before."

The Doctor can't help staring at her helplessly, drawn in by her obvious respect and fascination for new worlds and new places. "Make a habit of that, do you - going back in time to see cities long dead?" Something is niggling at him, something obvious that he's missing beyond the _we_ in her statement, but he's too distracted by the mystery of River to focus properly on the mystery of San Helios.

River smirks at him. "Of course, sweetie. I'm an archaeologist."

The Doctor scoffs. "That's cheating."

Grin widening and brow arching, River accuses, "And you don't?"

She says it like she already knows the answer. The Doctor squirms. "It's not cheating. I'm a Time Lord. Practically in the title: Lord of Time."

River rolls her eyes, and even the Doctor winces at how pompous that came out. "Charming," she deadpans, and he doesn't know why he thought she'd be easily impressed.

Or why he wants so very badly to impress her.

He tries to bite back the urge, but what tumbles out of his mouth is a wry, "Don't worry - you don't have to kiss me either."

River's eyebrow wings higher. "Are you admitting that you're full of -"

"Anyway," the Doctor cuts her off, shrugging apologetically at their hosts and trying to tear his attention away from River Song and not-so-sudden thoughts of kissing her. "Back to work!"

Smirking again, River turns to the projection and considers it carefully. "So, if that's San Helios, where was that city?"

That nagging feeling is back, and the Doctor's starting to realize what it is. The connection he was missing. He turns to Praygat, who turns a switch, and the scene dissolves into a desert landscape. "I don't think it's that simple... we're in the city. Right now."

River nods, chewing on her lip and looking pensive - all her earlier mirth fading instantly. "Temples turned to sand. The first image would have been ancient history." Even as she says it, the Doctor can tell she doesn't believe it.

Praygat shakes his head. " _The archival images of San Helios City were taken last year._ "

From River's eyes, it's obvious that she had already guessed something close. The lush green planet in the archival photos compared to a desert wasteland, with a Tritovore trade delegation in route and their lifespans but a few short years. Her face closes, neither distressed nor surprised. "It became a desert in one year."

The words are hollow. The Doctor feels that same sick sense of loss. "I said there was something in the sand..." the not-sand, everywhere, even in this ship. He scoops up a handful from the floor and lets it slip through his fingers like all those lives, now impossible to save. "The city, the oceans, the mountains, the wildlife, and a hundred billion people turned to sand. All those voices in Carmen's head - she's hearing them die."

The sand is everywhere. There's even some in River's hair, caught in her curls by the wind as they trudged through the bone desert. But River doesn't seem disturbed or disgusted, only sad, her hand resting over his. "We don't know what happened. Perhaps some were able to escape."

"No," he turns his hand to grip hers without thinking about it, needing her to ground him because he can see it now in front of his eyes, fixed in time by their own realization: people dying; people screaming. There would have been no escape, not from this. Not from a whole world dissolving into dust overnight. "Something destroyed the whole of San Helios."

Her grip tightens, pulling him from that nightmare and, when he finally blinks and looks properly at her, instead of the images dancing across the time stream, River's eyes have hardened, glinting sharply. "Well then, that something had better hope it is long gone before we find it."

There's a vehemence that is startlingly cold; a quiet finality to that statement that leaves the Doctor unsure how to respond.

It seems timing is either forever against him or more on his side than he could ever have guessed when it comes to River Song because the mobile in his pocket rings at that moment, and the Doctor hastily fishes it out, releasing River's hand as he does so.

"Malcolm! Tell me the bad news!"

Malcolm has yet to lose his excitement and hero-worship, which is the last thing the Doctor wants in this moment. "Oh you're clever! It is bad news! It's the wormhole, Doctor, it's getting bigger! We've gone well past one hundred Bernards; I haven't invented a name for that."

The Doctor shoves up his spectacles to rub at the pounding headache settling neatly behind his eyes, something from the way nothing makes sense or the light or the wormhole or all the people he can't ever seem to save. "How can it get bigger by itself?"

Malcom wilts a little at that but quickly rallies. "That's why I'm phoning! You'll work it out, if I know you, sir!"

Before the Doctor can give into the surge of his headache - no pressure there or anything - Erisa commandeers the call. "Doctor, we estimate the circumference of your invisible door is now four miles, heading upwards. I've grounded all flights above London; we can't risk anyone else falling through."

The Doctor nods to himself, feeling River's hand settle over his arm. Well, he's not quite alone in figuring it out - he knows that River Song is quite the ace up his sleeve when it comes to impossible solutions for impossible things. No need to let Malcom or the good Captain worry - there's still time, and they're doing their best. Brilliant, both of them. "Good work, both of you!"

He's about to hang up when Erisa interrupts. "But I have to know. Does that wormhole constitute a danger to this planet?"

He winces. Oh, humans and their planet. The Doctor has seen what they're capable of and he's not up for it. Not right now. Besides, there's plenty of time. "Oh, sorry, call waiting, gotta go!" He hangs up the phone with no remorse at all, to find River watching him with a too-knowing, arched eyebrow.

Almost the second he hands up, the phone chirps again, and the Doctor eyes it with suspicion. It's not UNIT phoning back, though it's nearly as bad. He can't imagine the occupants of the bus phoning him means anything good - not with the not-storm and not-sand to deal with. "Hello!"

"Doctor, it's Nathan. We got those duckboard things down, but..."

He can hear Angela in the background, sounding pitiful. "It's my fault."

Nathan consoles her with a quiet sort of resignation. "No, it's not. Don't say that."

River smacks him, none-too-gently, but he turns his body away from her, already certain he doesn't want this conversation on speakerphone.

"Why?" The Doctor urges, not liking the sound of this conversation at all. "What's happened?"

There's a heavy pause and then Nathan explains. "We kept on turning the engine, but... we're out of petrol. Used it all up. Even if we can get those wheels out... this bus is never going to move."

They're out of petrol. They're stuck on a planet with nothing but the dust of an entire civilization, a broken spaceship, and a double-decker bus... and they're out of petrol. Try as he might, the Doctor can't clever up a solution for that.

Nathan continues, sounding more desperate with each passing word, with each moment that the Doctor remains silent. "You promised to get us home. Doctor? You still there?"

Heaving in a shaky breath, the Doctor clicks the phone off rather than offer more false hope. He thought he was through losing people - he _swore_ he was through losing people.

"Doctor, tell me - what did he say?"

There's River again, her voice low and urgent. But she's the last person he wants to admit his failings to. He's failed her enough already and she doesn't even know yet.

"Doctor, tell me what's wrong."

He's saved from answering her by the controls beeping and Sorvin hurrying over. " _The probe has entered the anomaly!_ "

The Doctor shifts his attention to the controls with relief - he needs more information. He needs something, anything to distract him from humans stranded on alien planets, expecting him to save them. "It's the probe. It's reached the storm."

Sorvin corrects him almost immediately. " _It's not a storm!_ "

"No," River agrees, grim as they watch the image on the probe separate into distinct forms - distinct creatures. "It's a swarm. Millions of them..."

Her maths is a bit off again, but he can hardly blame her when they're staring at what looks a bit like an electric blizzard of metal stingrays. "Billions," he corrects, swallowing hard as he watches the swarm - River was right on that, certainly - moving faster and getting closer until the screen goes abruptly black. "We've lost the probe. Think it got eaten. Everything on this planet gets eaten."

While he's wallowing, he can just see River doing the maths out of the corner of his eyes. Her voice is urgent, "How far away is that swarm, Doctor? Three hundred miles, two?"

"Hundred miles," he admits, tearing himself away from the dread scourge and trying to focus on how much time they have to come up with a brilliant, almost impossible plan. "But at that speed, it'll be here in twenty minutes."

Praygat is horrified. " _They're coming for us_!"

"No, they're not just coming for us," the Doctor can almost see it now, what's happening, and it's not going to happen on his watch. Not now, not ever. "They want the wormhole."

"They're heading for Earth," River quickly surmises, and she looks suddenly as fierce as she had earlier, in that moment before Malcolm phoned.

The Doctor nods, but there's something else - something more. He turns to Praygat. "Show the analysis."

The probe got a pretty good view of the creatures making up the swarm before it was eaten and one of them appears on the screen. It's their exoskeleton that's metal, which is... "Incredible! They swarm out of a wormhole, strip the planet bare, then move onto the next world. Start the life cycle all over again." It's a beautiful piece of evolution.

River is frowning, clearly not appreciating the majestic creature in front of her. She looks more assessing, actually. "Are they generating the wormholes then? Those aren't exactly easy to come by."

"They must do," the Doctor confirms. It's something integral to their life cycle - like salmon swimming upstream.

River is unconvinced. Pushing him - always pushing him to be better, smarter, braver. "How? They're hundreds of miles away from the wormhole we fell through, and it certainly wasn't big enough for a swarm of that size. It also wasn't sitting in the middle of London for year undetected."

All perfectly good questions. The Doctor squirms. "Because... They need to be far away from it..? No, that's bonkers. Hang on! Yes! Oh! D'you see? Billions of them, flying in formation, all the way round the planet, faster and faster and faster, round and round and round, 'til they generate a rupture in space! The speed of them, and the numbers, and the size - all of that rips the wormhole into existence-"

He can tell that River does see, a worried crease to her brow. "The wormhole's getting bigger."

"Because they're getting closer! They've got bones of metal! They eat metal, extrude it into the exoskeleton! So their velocity makes the wormhole, then their body makes it safe! Perfect design!" He can't resist grinning a bit - it really is a brilliant example of the wonderful varieties of life in the universe. And no, he still doesn't have a plan, but that's half the fun of it, isn't it?

River is not smiling. "Those things are going to turn the entire Earth into a desert. So why exactly are you smiling?"

He doesn't even pretend to feel abashed. Offers her a shrug and a wink as he admits, "Worse it gets, more I love it!"

And there she is - his bad girl, grinning right back at him. "Me too."

They both move quickly to the controls. The Doctor turns to their hosts while River scans the control room, looking for something they can salvage and use. What they can really use is fuel. "Diesel, the bus, the 200, it uses diesel - it's oil, it's petrol, it's a mineral from rocks, have you got any sort of engine fuel I could have a look at?"

Praygat and Sorvin shake their heads, looking confused as they explain that they would never carry something as potentially hazardous as liquid fuel - their ship runs on dry filaments which, the Doctor has to admit, are far more efficient but utterly useless at the moment.

River tuts, turning to him with a calculating look. "Except you're missing the obvious, Doctor. We came here through the wormhole, but our Tritovore friends didn't - they came here to trade with San Helios. Of course they don't have diesel. The question is: why did they crash?"

"Oh! Good question! What a team!" He's honestly more impressed by her mind than annoyed she was cleverer than him, _again_. He turns to the Tritovores, "Like she said, why did you crash?"

Praygat and Sorvin look at each other and then back at River and the Doctor. It's Sorvin who answers this time. " _The drive system stalled when we were just above the surface and we fell._ "

River nods as though this is exactly what she expected. "Where are your drive system controls? In a Gravity Well?" She hardly waits for an answer. "Show us."

Sure enough, there's a narrow Gravity Well in the center of the ship, the engine glowing at the bottom of the long, dark shaft. It looks like close to half a mile. "Oh yes, Gravity Well, look."

River crouches next to him, a comforting warmth at his side. "Judging by the damage, they must have been about ten miles up when they crashed."

The Doctor blinks at her when Sorvin confirms in the Tritovore standard units. "How'd you know that, Professor? Crash a lot of ships, do you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" And somehow she's teasing him, just like that. Even with 17.23 minutes left to save the bus and the entire Earth from the encroaching swarm.

Worst part is - he kinda likes it. He shakes his head and tries to focus. The Gravity Well doesn't look like it's malfunctioned. "Ten miles up, they fell out of the sky. But what caused that?"

Sorvin shrugs, " _No idea._ "

Still eyeing the Gravity Well pit and the engine at its base, River mutters, "I've got a few," but she's still frowning, like she hasn't quite worked it all out yet.

The Doctor is torn between his own racing thoughts and wanting to know River's. "What sort of - wait a minute... that's a Crystal Nucleus down there, yes?"

"Yes," Sorvin confirms, giving the Doctor a look as though that should be obvious.

He's almost got the shape of it now - a madcap plan. "And it looks like it survived the crash. If the Crystal's intact..." A broken spaceship, a double-decker bus, humans and Tritovores to save, and no petrol. Except... "Oh yes, that's better than diesel!"

River glances up sharply at his gleeful exclamation, and then looks speculatively back toward engine. "The spaceship's a write-off, but we can use the crystal to move the 200 - it should be small enough."

The look she gives him is a bit impressed and the Doctor preens. "Clever, isn't it? Look!" He dashes to the broken wall monitor and turns it on, quickly flicking to the engine room camera.

Despite the burnt metal around it, it's intact, just as he'd hoped: a fist-sized yellow crystal, held in place by four metal clamps.

Intact, but a long way down. The Doctor turns to Sorvin, hopefully, "Have you got access shafts?"

Sorvin shakes his head sadly. " _Too cold - they've all frozen shut."_

Of course they are - the temperature of the spaceship will only be colder in the traditionally uninhabited areas like access shafts and the Gravity Well. Still, there's got to be a way. "Maybe I can open them!" He spots the internal coms on the wall and puts one of the ear pieces in, tossing the other to River, who catches it easily. "Stay here and keep an eye on the shaft - tell me if anything happens!"

Every second counts if they're going to rig a Crystal Nucleus to the 200 and get everyone off this planet before the swarm reaches the wormhole and moves on to Earth.

The Doctor runs for the control room, Sorvin on his heels, and trusts River to keep an eye on the Gravity Well.

He's so distracted by the countdown in his head and the plan-in-progress that he doesn't stop to consider the fact that River never does exactly what she's told. Not while he's in the control room, dashing between broken panels, trying to connect different systems and hack the controls and figure out how to get the bloody heat on. "If I can use that sunlight to start the automatic maintenance... River? If you see a panel opening, in the shaft, let me know."

"Nothing yet," comes River's voice in his ear, perfectly calm and steady and doing things to his insides that a voice over coms should not be doing in the middle of a crisis.

He tries to build his own solar grid of a sort, mind racing as he catalogues what few systems are still functional on this ship and how he might put them to use. "Anything now?"

"Afraid not," comes the reply, almost amused.

The Doctor huffs, trying a few different connections. "Any sign of movement?"

"Nope."

There's something in her tone that niggles at him, but the Doctor is too busy focusing on the next five contingency plans and fourteen wires to get those bloody access shafts open. "How's that?"

"Nothing."

Plans 17-29 it is then, and he's starting to run out of plans. And wires. "Any result?"

River sounds far too calm in comparison to his increasingly frantic efforts to open the shafts. "Not a dickie bird. Just to be clear: all we need is that Crystal?"

"Yep!" and the Doctor is almost certain they can manage it, with another 11 plans and almost as many minutes to go.

"Then consider it done."

The low level alarm in his head roars to full tilt because _of course_ River has a plan, and he already knows he won't like it one bit. "Why, what d'you mean? River?" When she doesn't immediately reply, he feels a sudden sense of overwhelming dread. "River!"

He forgets all about the controls and the last six plans - he just runs.

He skids back into the Gravity Well room just in time to see that River is hooked up to a winch, standing on the edge of the Gravity Well. She turns as he enters, offering a smug look and completely ignoring his horror. "Archaeologist. We're ready for anything."

"No - !" He lunges for her but River's faster - diving head first into the Gravity Well.

The winch is spinning rapidly, and she's going much too fast, and she's going to hit one of the security grids. The Doctor grabs his sonic and works frantically to stop the winch, his hearts in his throat.

He can hear her startled huff when it finally stops, which means she's alive. The Doctor exhales a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, peering over the edge to see her glaring up at him. "That's better."

River's voice in his ear is annoyed. "I decide when I stop, thank you, Doctor."

"You were just about to hit the security grid," he counters, cursing her recklessness, "look!"

There's a pause as River looks down, surveying the electrical grid far too close to her. "Honestly, sweetie, I had it under control. Red button to my left?"

The Doctor nods, impressed and still a bit out of sorts, as he confirms, "Red button to your left."

She reaches out to smack the button and turn off the security grid, "Got it!"

Which at least allows one of the Doctor's hearts to resume a normal beat, now that she's not in danger of being electrocuted ( _again_ , a wounded part of his mind reminds him). "Now come back up! I can do that!"

River actually laughs at him, as though he's being ridiculous. "Oh, don't you wish?"

She presses something on her waist - a controller for the winch, undoubtedly - and the winch starts rotating again.

The Doctor brandishes his sonic at the winch. "Slowly!"

"Yes, sweetie," River murmurs, still in a tone that suggests she thinks he's being ridiculous.

But she does slow from the terrifying, breakneck pace she began with to something more moderate, and the Doctor has to admit that they don't have time to trade places. Once he's certain the winch will hold, he settles down by the edge of the Well, where he can keep an eye on River. "Quite the mystery, aren't you? Professor River Song. Carrying a winch in her bag."

His voice has dropped lower, and he has to admit that part of the fluttering in his stomach is something other than fear.

When she answers, River's voice is like liquid silk. "No stranger than you, Doctor."

He shakes his head, marveling at how easily she teases him - how well River seems to know him. "And you'd know all about that, I suppose, eh?"

River hums noncommittally. "Perhaps. I know that, whatever brought you here, you're looking for something," her voice is painfully gentle, "or running from something."

The Doctor winces, thankful that she can't see him, thinking of all the things he's running from. All the _loss_. But he quickly shakes away memories of libraries and _burning_ and a fiery, brilliant ginger who never listened. "Why does it have to be one of those? Couldn't I just be exploring? All of space and time, River. There's so much to see - creation of the universe, end of the universe, the war between China and Japan. And the Court of King Athelstan, in 924 AD," he drops it in casually, as though he's not just found the Cup of Athelstan right at the top of River's pack. "...But I don't remember you being there. So what are you doing with this?"

Her huff of irritation is loud and clear. "Didn't anyone ever teach you not to snoop, Doctor? And how do you know I wasn't there?"

He'd have noticed if River was in King Athelstan's court, wouldn't he? But the possibilities are spinning out behind his eyes anyway. Does she go later? Does he take her?

Before he can voice the swirl of questions, Sorvin cuts in, eyeing the Cup suspiciously. " _Is this important, this item?"_

The Doctor answers quickly, before River can spin her own tale, still turning the priceless artifact over in his hands. "It's the Cup of Athelstan. Given to the first King of Britain, as a coronation gift from Hywel, King of the Welsh. But it's been held in the International Gallery for 200 years," which means she cannot have acquired it from the court, nor can she pretend she dug it up at some archaeological site, "which makes you, Professor Song... a thief."

River doesn't sound even the slightest bit put out by his statement, nor by the careful descent into the Well. "I like to think I liberated it."

The Doctor scoffs at that. "Don't tell me you needed the money."

Her laughter still sounds like liquid silk, but she manages to deadpan, "What can I say? An archaeologist's gotta eat."

"No, no, no. If you're short of cash, you rob a bank." River makes an amused noise, as if to say _oh, really_ , and the Doctor immediately regrets the suggestion. He fidgets with the Cup, hurrying on. "Stealing this... that's a lifestyle."

"I take it you disapprove?"

"Absolutely." Except... "Except... that little blue box." He wonders if he's already told her this. How many times he might. "I stole it. From my own people."

But, as always, River gives nothing away, spoilers swirling in the space between their words. "Good boy. You were right - we're quite the team."

Flustered by her teasing, the Doctor is saved from trying to refute her statement by a sudden and alarming howl, echoing eerily through the ship, like a screech of metal and a scream all at once. Echoing from the Well.

River curses under her breath. "Doctor, was that what I think it was?"

He has no doubt that it's exactly what she thinks. "We never did find out why the ship crashed." And he doesn't fancy River coming face to face with it while he's stuck up here, minding the winch. "River, I think you should come back up."

River's voice is slightly strained. "Too late." There's an alarming pause while he watches the rope descend further and frantically tries to calculate the average human body heat in this climate, and then, "I can see it..."

Of course she can. She's brilliant. She'll be all right - he knows that. After all, he knows her future. Wincing, the Doctor can't help but urge her, "Careful. Slowly." He wants to change her future, but certainly not like this. He leans toward Sorvin, careful to quiet his voice - if River hasn't worked it out already there's no need to alarm her. "Have you got an open vent system?"

Sorvin tilts his head, wondering why the Doctor suddenly cares about their venting. " _Yes_."

The Doctor winces. "I thought so."

"Doctor," River's voice is clipped, controlled. "About why the ship crashed..."

It sends alarm thrumming through his system, and the Doctor eyes the winch nervously, running calculations. They need the Crystal, but... "Like birds flying into the engines of an aircraft..."

"I think I found one of our birds," River is quiet and calm, and he thinks this isn't the first time she's found herself face to face with one of the deadlier bits of the universe.

He hates this, hates being up here while River is out of sight and out of reach and in _danger_. He doesn't ever want her in danger. Not her. "It got trapped. Caused the crash." There's no surprise on the other end of the line - River already knows, of course she does. "River, get out."

"It's not moving," he can hear her stubbornness now, despite the fact that she must know the danger as well as him. "I think it's dormant because it's so cold down here."

It's not moving _yet._ "But your body heat is _raising the temperature_." If he sounds frantic, it's because he is.

River, of all things, laughs. Low and sultry and entirely inappropriate. "I tend to have that effect. Don't worry, sweetie. Almost there."

The part of his mind that has been quietly working on plans 24-29, the part that believes that River absolutely _will_ succeed, lights on plan 30. "Not just the Crystal. I need the whole bed - the plate-thing."

River mutters something that sounds like, "Well a Crystal Nucleus wouldn't be much use on its own, would it?" but there's a clanking of metal and then an alarm blares, and the Doctor finds himself holding his breath rather than wondering how she knows all that.

There's an ominous screech, like discordant metal screaming, or like a metal stingray that had been hibernating in the cold just waking up. " _River_..."

"Got it!"

He's sonicking the winch immediately, cursing under his breath as he watches the rope yank back up. He cranks up the power. It needs to go faster. "Come on, come on, come on!"

There's an ominous grinding and screeching, the metal stingray sounds stuck, but the Gravity Well is metal too, and they already know what these creatures do to metal. "That thing's gonna eat its way up!" he warns River, frantically working his sonic on the winch because he knows River can take the speed - it just needs to go _faster._

There's a pop and then a zap, and he realizes instantly that River must've turned the security grid back on, somehow, even as she whizzed back up the Gravity Well with a metal stingray hot on her tail. "Oh, she's good!"

Just a little more and - yes, _there_. River pops out of the Gravity Well, arms full of Crystal Nucleus and still somehow managing a graceful little flip at speed.

The Doctor and Sorvin reach out, and it's the Doctor who catches her. "There you go. I've got you."

River's hair is wild and her smile is wicked as she hands off the Crystal Nucleus to Sorvin and neatly disentangles herself from her harness, slipping from the Doctor's arms as though she'd always meant to land there. Perhaps she had.

"Well now, that was certainly refreshing," River winks, neatly bends to collect her pack, checking that the cup is safely inside, and turns towards the control room without looking to see if they'll follow.

Sorvin watches her with an appreciative set of blinks. " _River is most impressive._ "

The Doctor can't help but grin, his hearts beating suspiciously fast. "Isn't she just?" He takes the Crystal Nucleus back from Sorvin and hurries to catch up with River because they've got a bus full of humans to save.

And just a bit because she's brilliant.

They find Praygat meticulously manning the controls.

The Doctor grins. "Commander! Mission complete! Now we've got to get back to the 200, all of us."

Praygat shakes his head. "A commander must stay with his vessel."

Oh, not this. He never will understand dying for no reason, not when someone can be saved. "Oh, don't be daft. A captain can leave his ship if there's a bus standing by!"

There's a jolt that shakes the entire room.

"Doctor." River is suddenly right at his side. "It's not safe."

A howl echoes, long and aching, throughout the ship.

"Doctor," River hisses, urgent. "The creature isn't dead."

Praygat, who has been monitoring the situation from the control room, shakes his head. "The creature that chased you is dead."

He brushes past a moment of regret - there isn't time to wonder if he's glad the metal stingray is dead if it means River is standing next to him, her hand reaching for his. "Maybe you didn't hit just one of them..."

River finishes his thought, her grip tightening, even as her eyes dart uneasily across the ceiling and walls. "If you hit a swarm..."

The Doctor nods. "This ship's built inside a metal sleeve. They can move through the infrastructure, all around us."

The room shudders again, rubble drifting down, but the infrastructure holding. For now. Metal stingrays must be awfully heavy, and the ship has already suffered heavy damages.

Another howl, only he was wrong before, it wasn't aching, it was - " _Oh_ , and those things wake up hungry." He turns back to Praygat. "Commander, you've got to come with us, right now."

River quickly agrees, refocusing on Praygat, rather than the exit that she's been watching closely. "Come back with us. We have a ship. We'll find you a home."

The Doctor spares a moment to wonder what ship she means, and whether she means the TARDIS, but there's really no _time_. "Absolutely. Listen to the Professor, Commander. Come on!"

At last, Praygat nods and just in time. River is already dragging him toward the exit, running with her hand tight around his, and Sorvin and Praygat are right on their heels.

And then there's an ominous creak and the ceiling finally gives, a metal stingray falling with it, far bigger in person than he'd estimated. The impact of its bulk triggers an explosion, the instrument panels sparking and flaming, and Praygat, just a little hesitant, just a little further back, is slammed to the floor in the aftermath.

They all turn, reaching for him, but it's already too late. Ravenous, the metal stingray has already opened its mouth and started inhaling everything it can reach, including Praygat, caught up in its beautiful, terrible maw.

_No, not him. Not another life lost._ The Doctor looks frantically for anything - it doesn't even want Praygat, he's not even metal - and he sees River doing the same calculation, but his arms are full of the Crystal Nucleus and River has nothing more useful than a gilded cup left in her pack.

Sorvin doesn't hesitate, pulling out his gun and rushing toward his fallen commander before River or the Doctor can catch him. "No, don't!"

River curses and turns to go after him, but the Doctor holds fast to her hand, pulling her back just as the huge bulk of the metal stingray rears up, heavy metal body slamming down with an ominous crunch, both Praygat and Sorvin disappearing under its girth.

The Doctor winces and sees River do the same. They both know nothing could survive the weight of that, but perhaps...

River gives him a tight look. "Nothing we can do."

The ship and its devourers shriek in discordant harmony.

River squeezes his hand. And they run.

They make it out just in time, the creatures devouring the ship behind them.

Lightning forms and cracks above them, the not-storm clouds growing ever closer as they races across the not-sand dunes.

The swarm.

They don't stop running.

His mobile rings and the Doctor fumbles with the Crystal Nucleus to answer without letting go of River's hand. "Not now, Malcolm!"

He slams it shut as soon as the words are out, shoving it back in his pocket and adjusting his grip on the Crystal Nucleus.

They don't stop running until the 200 is in sight, and not even then. River keeps up with him as though they've been running together all their lives, and they race to the bus as one.

Nathan pops his head out of the door, anxious. "At last! Where've you been?!"

The Doctor shakes his head, still running, "Get inside!"

"Get everyone sitting down!" That's River, right next to him. Right there with his plan.

Thankfully, Nathan doesn't argue. Quickly ducking back into the bus and closing the door.

The Doctor studies the bus and the Crystal carefully - they've no time to waste and no room for error. It's already an almost impossible plan as it is - just the way he likes it. "Now then, let's have a look..."

Reaching around him to steal the Crystal, River ignores his protest. "Oh, don't pretend you needed that." She tucks it in her pack. "Consider it a finder's fee."

The power contained in a Crystal Nucleus is really not something he should let her just toss into a cloth sack. "You can't just steal a Crystal Nucleus!"

River shrugs, something teasing in her expression. "I just did. Besides, I risked my life for that."

He shouldn't like that. Kinda does a bit. Still. "No, you risked your life for these clamps." He pulls off one prong, hurrying over to the nearest wheel and letting the clamp magnetize to the hubcap.

It sticks, which he was almost definitely maybe positive it would. "One there," the Doctor grins, turning to see River right next to him with a matching expression and her hand out for a clamp.

  
The Doctor hands her two of the clamps and she sprints quickly to the other side of the bus while he places the forth clamp on the rear wheel on his side.

He races back to the bus, hurrying to open the door and head to the driver's seat, just as River dashes on board, closing the door behind her and standing right next to him at the controls.

"Will it work?"

"It should," the Doctor promises. "Just need to fix this." He slams the base plate of the Crystal Nucleus over the steering wheel, where it fits perfectly, bless cosmic engineering.

He glances at River. _What are the chances_... "Have you got a hammer in that bag?"

After all, he didn't really have much time to snoop between finding the Cup of Athelstan and saving her from their new metal friends with the world-eating sharp teeth.

River's wicked grin is worth every second of danger he wastes appreciating it. "Funnily enough..." she opens her pack and retrieves a hammer as though the bag really were bigger on the inside.

The second she hands it over, the Doctor starts affixing the plate to the steering wheel, fumbling at the same time for his mobile. "Phone UNIT, the number is -"

But River has already taken the phone and hit redial, clever girl, pressing the phone to the Doctor's ear while he works, as though she's done this a thousand times before. He doesn't have much time to wonder if she really has before the line clicks on. "Malcolm! It's me!"

Malcolm sounds nervous but determined, a little hard to make out - still clearly on speaker phone. "I'm ready!"

The Doctor blinks, glancing up at River to see her looking equally confused. Perhaps he's still distracted by the Crystal plate and the _plan-in-progress_. "Ready for what?"

Malcolm hesitates. "I don't know! You tell me!"

Scientists. Always ready to test any hypothesis - though usually in less life or death situations. Malcolm is holding up admirably, all things considered. The Doctor tries to keep his voice reassuring. "I'm gonna try to get back, but listen, there might be something following us. You need to find a way to close the wormhole."

Clearly doing his own maths, Malcolm takes a moment to digest the Doctor's words. "Would that be a compressed burst of feedback on a counteroscillation, perchance?"

The Doctor can't help grinning at River, even as he works on wiring the Crystal plate into the bus controls, which are definitely not meant to be compatible systems. "Oh Malcolm, you're brilliant!"

He can practically hear Malcolm's answering grin, and it's worth the inevitable fawning. "Coming from you, Sir, that means the world!"

The Doctor is just batting away River's free hand, which is trying to correct his wiring even though it's _fine_ , when Erisa cuts over Malcolm's enthusiastic response. "Doctor, what sort of something? That wormhole is now measuring ten miles and growing - I need to know the exact nature of the threat."

But the Doctor doesn't have time for that. And it won't matter anyway - Erisa is a Captain and she'll want to fight, but there's nothing anyone can do if they don't get that wormhole closed before their metal friends come through. "Sorry -" he motions frantically to River, "gotta go -!"

Lips quirked up in a smirk, River shuts the phone and ends the call, stowing it back in his pocket with an easy familiarity that the Doctor doesn't have time to dwell on - not when River's reaching over to assist with the wiring and he has to admit that, when the second set of hands are _hers_ \- it's actually incredibly helpful.

Well, he doesn't have to admit it out loud.

And it's not going to matter anyway because the wiring isn't working, no matter how many hands they have. "Ahhh, it's not compatible, bus, spaceship; spaceship, bus. I need to weld the two systems together." He drags his fingers through his hair, trying to _think_. "I need something non-corrosive, something malleable, something ductile, something..."

"Gold," River sits back as well, frowning. "Oh, sweetie, do we have to? Isn't anything else on this bus gold? I only just acquired it."

The Doctor frowns at her, wondering if she'd tell him _how_ or _why_ if he asked. "River..."

Barclay runs forward, frantically undoing his wristwatch and holding it out to them - he must have been close enough to overhear. "Hey! Use this!"

The Doctor shakes his head, confused. "I said gold!"

Looking at him like he's lost the plot, Barclay thrusts the watch closer. "It is gold!"

It's River's turn to shake her head. "Bless, they saw you coming." But she's already reaching into her pack for the Cup, and she's surprisingly gentle as she nudges the watch back towards Barclay. "It's all right - we just need something a bit _bigger_."

Barclay retreats, staring at his own watch more suspiciously, but clearly not wanting to distract them from their work. Humans in a crisis. Always so resilient.

In the overly bright sunlight streaming through the bus windows, the Cup of Athelstan is breathtaking in its craftsmanship - age has only made it grander.

River has her Professor face on. "It's over a thousand years old. Worth eighteen million pounds." She eyes him closely. "Be careful."

The Doctor nods solemnly, Rule One already on his lips. "I promise."

With something that sounds like a curse under her breath, River hands the Cup over.

The Doctor promptly takes the hammer to it, and the fragile gold Cup dents and quickly collapses into little more than a hunk of misshapen ore. Exactly what he needs.

River narrows her eyes at him, though she doesn't seem all that surprised, already bending back toward the wiring to assist. "I hate you."

Still hammering away, something light and almost _hopeful_ in his chest - because this really _might work -_ the Doctor grins brilliantly at River. "No, you don't."

He thinks he hears River laugh as she hands him a wire to affix to the gold conductor.

With River at his side, her mind and hands working almost as fast as his, they get the plate wired into the ignition - wrapped in that precious, conducting gold - faster than he'd expected. And with not a second to spare.

River nods and the Doctor raises his voice towards the terrified - but holding it together brilliantly! - humans in the back of the bus. "This is your driver speaking! Hold on tight!"

Barclay, who has been watching their re-wiring closely, looks alarmed. "What for?"

River straightens, a smile on her lips that allows for no argument. "Just do as he says! Quickly, now." As soon as she's assured the others are complying, she bends slightly to hiss in the Doctor's ear, spare hand holding tightly to the handrail by his seat, "This had better work."

The Doctor gives her his biggest grin - the one that is only for _almost impossible_ and near death experiences. He's not at all surprised when River's grin matches his and she bites her lip to hide laughter.

He fiddles with the controls and hits the gas, gripping the modified steering wheel firmly. "Come on, that's it - you can do it, you beauty! One last trip!"

There's some ominous creaking, but the bus - the Mighty 200! - holds, bless steel engineering, and up they go, lifting off the not-sand slowly, carefully, just in case it _doesn't hold_.

River settles next to him, watching through the windscreen, one hand joining his on the steering wheel. She's perfectly calm, though he can see the tension in her frame because River must know as well as he does that the chances of this working are - well, best not calculated, really.

The terrified humans in the back start gasping and shouting in surprise, wide-eyed and full of wonder as they realize the bus is flying. Though, they're safely minding River and holding on, which is a very good thing.

The Doctor meets River's eyes, unable to wipe the smug look from his face. "Anti-gravity clamps! Didn't I say? Round we go...." and he heaves the wheel, River pulling with him, and the bus lurches slowly around. Not known for steering, buses, even with anti-gravity clamps on them. But then, finally, there it is - the wormhole, right in front of them, and nowhere to go but through.

He just hopes there's still enough metal on the 200. There should be. At least, he hopes.

And not a second to lose because Carmen is shouting for him from the back of the bus, alarmed but certain. "Doctor! They're coming!"

River bites her lip, leaning close to whisper in his ear urgently, "Doctor, is this bus going to survive the journey back?"

They can hear the storm of metal stingrays now, close behind them, picking up speed. He turns to offer River his best madcap plan grin. "Only one way to find out!"

When a matching grin steals across River's face, he slams his foot down on the accelerator, the bus lurching forward as fast as its diesel engine and gravity clamp engineering can take them. "Next stop -"

River is shaking her head but smiling, eyes alight with the adventure or the danger as she finishes his thought. "Planet earth."

They hit the wormhole at impressive speed, the fabric of reality rippling and then giving into their intrusion, and then they're into the wormhole itself, the blinding, sheer power of it as they race through with the gravity clamps and thin remains of the steel bus skeleton doing their best to keep them in one piece.

It's faster and not quite as wild of a ride as the first trip, though infinitely more precarious, the space parting before and around them as they fly or fall or are pushed to their destination, River's hand in his.

Just a few precious seconds and then they're bursting through the other side, hitting the reassuring gravity and smog and night sky of London at full throttle.

The Doctor yanks the steering wheel up toward the sky, foot easing off the accelerator to avoid crashing into the UNIT HQ he can see set up at the mouth of the tunnel.

He can hear the passengers shouting out that they're back in London and _home_ and the Doctor grins at River because they _did it_. It was almost impossible, but everyone is safe and home, flying through the London night sky on a double-decker bus. The Mighty 200.

There's only a moment to appreciate it though before the whump of something hitting the wormhole barrier and the shriek of metal stingrays breaking through - closer than even he had calculated.

The Doctor motions urgently to River, who neatly rescues the mobile and puts it back to his ear, her motions quick but efficient and her face giving away nothing.

The second the line connects, the Doctor starts talking because these are just the advance scouts that were at the Tritovore ship, but there is a fully swarm of the metal stingrays right behind. Gunshots are already ringing out from UNIT forces, ricocheting off the metal stingray exoskeletons and heading straight for them. "Malcolm! Close that wormhole!"

Malcolm sounds scratchy and hectic, gunshots and electricity cackling across the line. "Yes, Sir! My pleasure, Sir!" Which would be more reassuring if the line didn't immediately go dead.

  
The Doctor glances incredulously between the phone and River. "He's hung up on me!" River looks far too amused for the situation as he quickly hits redial. "Malcolm?"

But it hardly matters. Malcolm only picks up long enough to shout, "Not now, I'm busy!" before the line goes dead again.

Still trying to process that he's just been hung up on - _twice!_ \- the Doctor quickly hits redial. Of all the times for Malcolm to get over his hero worship... "Malcolm! Listen to me!"

Malcolm sounds like he might be in the middle of a breakdown, which is hardly reassuring. "It's not working!"

It has to work, though. He already got them home - he's not about to give up on his favorite planet. "I need that signal. We've got billions of those things about to fly through!"

But Malcolm is nearing hysteria. "What do I do, Sir?"

The Doctor grits his teeth, keeping his eyes on the road so he doesn't focus on River's expectant look and Malcolm's hero-worship because they all expect him to magic up another plan and he's not sure if he even has one. He opens his mouth while he's still finishing calculations and hopes the plan forms or Malcolm solves it before he's done talking. "Loop it back through the integrator, then keep the signal ramping up."

No such luck. "By how much?"

He can't believe he's about to do the calculations in Malcolm's made up units, but there's _only seconds_. "500 Barnards! Do it now!!"

There's a flurry of noise as Malcolm presses buttons and equipment ramps up, and the Doctor feels River squeeze his hand reassuringly - this _has_ to work.

There's a moment of relief as Malcolm shouts, "Yes!" and the wormhole snaps shut, but UNIT is still shooting at the metal stingrays that got through, and The 200 is very much still in the middle of the firefight, as it were.

Nathan is shouting for him from the back of the bus, terror lacing his voice as the humans start screaming and River's grip on his hand tightens. "Doctor, it's coming for us!"

And sure enough, one of the metal stingrays flies past the length of the bus, eyeing them as though they look a particularly tasty metal treat, which he supposes they must do.

River reaches for the wheel, spinning it just as the Doctor does, the two of them yanking the bus around because they are _not_ about to get eaten today, not now, not ever. "Oh no you don't!" the Doctor warns the creature next to them, as the bus pivots, swiping the metal stingray right out of the sky with a bang that shakes the bus and an indignant screech from their world-eating friend.

Good old steel construction. The Mighty 200.

There's a crash and finally, _finally_ , he hears a ceasefire being called.

Perhaps the only one to realize just how close this all has been, River sighs with something that is either frustration or relief that echoes his own, shaking her head. "Did I say I hated you before? _Spoilers_ \- I was lying."

He only has a moment to ponder her admission before River grabs his lapels and yanks him into her, her lips finding his.

He's thought about snogging her, today, even - of course he has, bit impossible not to, really - but even his most secret imaginings have nothing on the reality of kissing _River Song_. She tastes like 51st century lipstick and high-end tea and _spoilers_. She kisses him thoroughly - like she _knows_ him, right down to his DNA - and he kisses her back with something that might be enthusiasm or desperation or _need_. It feels as though he could _solve_ her if he just never let go - just chased every flavor of River in the gentle curve of her tongue against his.

When they finally, reluctantly, part for air, River licking her swollen lips, it takes the Doctor a moment of blinking dimly at a world that isn't River to remember that they're still on The 200. And the humans at the back of the bus are clapping and whooping in joy, presumably for surviving their journey and hopefully not because they could _see_ River and the Doctor snogging.

The Doctor straightens up, settling back at the wheel and reaching for River to squeeze in next to him. "Well. Do not stand forward of this point, eh?" He grins at her, trying his best to ignore her smirk and not blush, and adjusts the rearview mirror until he can see all those cheerful humans as well. "Ladies and gentlemen, you have reached your final destination. Welcome home, The Mighty 200!"

With River at his side, they swing the bus around and land it as gently as possible on the ground, as close to the tunnel and UNIT as it is safe to do. It's still a bit of a jolt, landing a diesel bus with gravity clamps that barely survived not one but _two_ trips through a wormhole, but they manage. He catches River's eye, "Phew!"

River shakes her head, just slightly, and he thinks she's perhaps the only person on this planet who understands just how close that actually had been. _Almost_ impossible, even.

Or perhaps they're more impressed than he gave them credit for, the humans, because, embarrassingly, everyone starts to clap, including the UNIT soldiers.

It takes a bit of sonicking to get the doors open this time - the second trip through the wormhole was not without damage - and the Doctor hurries the humans through, hoping to hide behind them and anxious to get away from the type of adoration that makes his skin twitch. River hangs back with him while he fetches his coat and they exit the bus after the other humans, coming face to face with the UNIT blockade and soldiers and their entirely unnecessary guns.

One of the soldiers is already starting a speech about procedures and screening, but the Doctor ignores him, flashing his psychic paper as he walks past, "I don't count," and assuming that will be the end of that.

By the time he realizes that they've not let River through with him, he's already halfway across the tarmac and she's already been hustled away by the bus with the other humans - and why should River get special treatment, anyway? He resolutely ignores the part of him that mutters that River is _special_ and he should go back for her.

Not that he has a choice. Standing at attention right in front of him can only be Erisa, and he'd really rather get the UNIT portion of the day over with as soon as possible so he can go collect his TARDIS and maybe find another of those little chocolate eggs - he saved a planet! He deserves it! - before Easter is officially over.

But before he can get a word out, a small scientist, clad unmistakably in strong spectacles and a white lab coat under his scarf jacket, all but runs up to him. "Doctor!"

Ah, of course. The Doctor grins, "You must be Malcolm!"

Malcolm nearly bowls him over in a surprisingly strong hug, seemingly with no intentions of ever letting go again as he starts to profess his love.

The Doctor pats the small human awkwardly, making eye contact with Erisa in the hopes that she'll assist – he's aware that scientists can be fragile creatures and not quite sure how to extricate himself without injuring Malcolm's self-esteem. After all - Malcolm saved the world too - if he wants a hug, that's what he'll get.

At last, Malcolm pulls back go meet the Doctor's eyes, earnestly proclaiming, "I love you!" before Erisa steps in to nudge him gently away.

"To your station, Dr. Taylor."

Looking more stunned than the Doctor feels, Malcolm agrees good-naturedly enough. "Yes, Ma'am!"

But he only gets a few feet before turning back to the Doctor, so hopeful and earnest that it nearly breaks the Doctor's hearts. "I love you."

Before the Doctor can think of what to say, Malcolm has turned away again, dashing off to his laboratory, no doubt.

That just leaves Erisa, who promptly salutes, ignoring the Doctor's rolled eyes and discomfit at the gesture. He told her not to salute. He winces and turns his back as she bites back a grin. "Doctor, I salute you. Whether you like it or not. Now, do I take it we're safe from those things?"

The Doctor shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, making a face and wishing River were still standing next to him. Maybe she could've saved him from the hug and the salute - he's not sure which makes him more uncomfortable - even if he knows the actual answer should be _River snogging him,_ though somehow it isn't. "They'll start again. Generate a new doorway. Not their fault; it's a natural life cycle. But I'll see if I can nudge the wormholes on to uninhabited planets." Easy enough to do, he suspects. No more planets full of not-sand. Not on his watch. The Doctor shakes himself from those melancholy thoughts, focusing on the humans from the bus – and if he happens to check on River at the same time, he can hardly be blamed for being curious as to how she's responding to UNIT. "Closer to home though, Captain, those two lads -"he gives Nathan and Barclay a pointed look, leaning against the car parked behind Erisa so he can get closer to her level and not be overheard, turning so that she follows his gaze. So honest and hard working and... "Very good in a crisis. Nathan needs a job. Barclay's good with engines. You could do a lot worse. Privates Nathan and Barclay: UNIT's finest."

Erisa seems to consider it before giving a concise nod, that easy smile still threatening to light up her face. "I'll see what I can do." She pauses then, looking quite pleased with herself, as well she should do - she wasn't bad in a crisis either, aside from all that mostly unnecessary _shooting_. "And I've got something for you..."

The Doctor follows Erisa's gesture to see the TARDIS being offloaded from a truck behind them.

Oh, brilliant!

"Better than a bus any day! Hello!" The Doctor can't help but dash immediately over to the Old Girl, running his hands along her wood and asking how she is. Apologizing for leaving her. He thought he'd have to walk back to her at this rate. What with the rhondium particles having led him on a chase halfway round London.

Erisa has followed him, sounding slightly reproachful and still terribly curious. "Found in the gardens of Buckingham Palace."

He turns just long enough to protest, "Oh, she doesn't mind." Though the Doctor is careful not to clarify his relationship with the TARDIS, palace or queen any further. Probably for the best if UNIT isn't sure exactly which 'she' he means, all things considered. Humans do get so touchy about their monarchs.

After a beat, Erisa seems to accept his lack of answer and changes tacks. "Now, I've got three dead alien stingrays to clear up... don't suppose you want to help with the paperwork?"

The Doctor spins back around to grin at her, making a face. "Not a chance!"

Erisa nods, that smile breaking through her stern Captain exterior. "Till we meet again, Doctor."

UNIT could do with worse. "I hope so." And, as Erisa heads off to her troops and cleanup and _paperwork_ , he means it. The Doctor hopes he will see her again, even as he turns back to the TARDIS, ready to slip away.

Still, he can't help but take one last look around - not just for River, exactly, but if his eyes happen to find her, he can hardly be blamed, what with that hair and all.

River catches him looking, of course. She rolls her eyes, says firmly, "That's quite enough of that," and steps away from the UNIT soldier charged with scanning the quarantined bus passengers without paying him any mind at all.

She's heads right for the Doctor.

His hearts beat double time but he doesn't shut the TARDIS door. Something tells him he'll never be able to lock River out - and the grumble from his ship alarmingly sounds like he might not get a say in the matter.

There's a bit of a kerfuffle from some detectives across the cordon, but the Doctor and River ignore them. She jogs easily up to the Doctor, resting one hand on the TARDIS but stopping short of touching him.

He expects her to tease him or ask for a lift but, when River opens her mouth, it's with the serious admonition, "Doctor, don't travel alone."

Her eyes - her eyes have a depth of emotion the Doctor would have never expected out of his time travelling archaeologist-turned-thief. She's all but begging him with those big, clear eyes and solemn words.

It makes him uncomfortable, the way she's looking at him. As though she knows exactly what he's running from. "What?"  
  
Her hand settles over his lapel, above his left heart. "Don't travel alone. Take someone with you. Malcolm. Erisa. Nathan. Anyone, Doctor."  
  


"Anyone. But not you." It's not actually a question. He already knows her answer will be no. Can see it in the way her eyes refused to settle on his as she named everyone else.  
  
An emotion crosses River's eyes before she can bite it back, something he can't quite decipher - and is a bit afraid to - but she doesn't look away. She must see something in his eyes because what she says is, "If you wanted me to, of course I'd travel with you." She swallows and offers up a smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes. "Anywhere, anywhen."  
  
He should say yes. Travel with River for a while - let her distract him with her fearlessness and adventures and _kisses_. But the idea of using River as a distraction leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He knows - well, he knows enough to know that she could never be just that. Not River. She's so much _more_.  
  


"People who travel with me - I've lost them. I lost them all. I'm sorry River, I just can't. Never again."

  
She smiles sadly, as though she knew his answer before he did. But she's also watching him sharply, as though she can read him like her little blue book of _spoilers_. "When are you, Doctor?"  
  


He squirms under that look. She let him get away with not answering earlier, but something tells him River won't put up with any clever evasions or Rule One this time. "Eh, been in London mostly, after a fashion. Defeated a CyberKing! May have - er - stolen the Earth briefly before that - I put it back though, as you can see! There may have been Daleks and a metacrisis involved - but it's all sorted now, after a fashion."

"Oh," it's more of a sigh than a word, as though River's confirming something with herself. "Donna." The Doctor can't hide his wince, especially not when River continues, her voice unbearably kind, "And Rose. Oh, Doctor."

He fidgets, wondering how she knows about them - when he tells her and _what_ he tells her. When will those names be ones that he can force his mouth to say without seeing burning supernovas and burning minds? Will _River_ one day be someone he can look at without also seeing burning?

River gives him a moment. When he doesn't respond, she offers a soft smile, somehow equal parts compassion and sorrow all at once. "Rule Seven."

_Never run when you're scared_.

The Doctor's eyes snap to hers. He really shouldn't be surprised that she knows Rule Seven. Shouldn't wonder when he teaches it to her and why, or if she knows all of his rules. If she knows why he _needs_ so many rules. What kind of man he really is. "Who says I'm running?"

River simply arches an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"

It's that look again - the one that says she knows him better than he knows himself. A tingle crawls across the Doctor's spine. He shakes it off, standing up straight and trying to pretend he hasn't the faintest idea what she's talking about. "What would I be running from? I'm the Doctor."

"Yes, you are. Only, I'm so sorry, but your song is ending soon, isn't it, sweetie?"

He blinks. Those aren't her words. Someone else said that - who said that? And then he remembers, all at once - Ood Sigma and his parting words. _I think your song must end soon._ She can't know that. How can she _know that?_ "What? What do you mean by that? River?"

River smiles sadly, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket momentarily before she lets go of him. "Just... just don't run too long, sweetie."

Before he can ask - demand - that she elaborate, the police officers from the other side of the cordon catch up to them, whipping out handcuffs and snapping them over River's wrist.

"Professor River Song! Oh, I've waited a long time to say this: I am arresting you on suspicion of theft. You do not have to say anything, etcetera, etcetera-"

  
River turns as though she's forgotten they were there, arching one extremely unimpressed eyebrow at the handcuffs and the speech. She winks at the Doctor. "Must it always be handcuffs?"

The Doctor nearly chokes, thrown abruptly back into that moment - straining at her handcuffs as she _burns - she's burning, and he can't save her_ \- someone else _so important_ that he couldn't save.

He can see River giving him a concerned look - very much alive and well in front of him - as he tries to shake off the nightmare of their first meeting.

It's probably for the best that the officer glares and nudges River towards his partner before either of them can say anything else. "Dennison, take her away!"  
  


The Doctor watches them march River away, shaken by the visions swimming behind his eyelids. He ought to help her - would they really put her in prison? Would he let them? - but she's already somehow managed to loosen the handcuffs so that they're dangling from her wrists, unbeknownst to the officers still marching her across the tarmac.

And someone else is calling his name, so softly. "Doctor?"

He turns to see Carmen and Lou being led away from The Mighty 200 by a UNIT soldier. Carmen looks haunted, as though she's still seeing the mysteries that three suns gifted her with. She's also staring directly, intently at the Doctor.

As soon as he makes eye contact, Carmen says quite clearly, "You take care now."

Trying his best to ignore that haunted look in her eyes - perfectly reasonable for humans who just survived two surprise wormhole trips and maybe almost, nearly being eaten by a giant metal stingray horde - the Doctor waves, giving his best smile. "An you! Chops and gravy, lovely!"

But Carmen stops, pursing her lips and shaking her head. "No, but you _be careful_. Because your song is ending, Sir."

The Doctor freezes at the second echo of Ood Sigma's words in as many minutes. Carmen still has some psychic ability and, importantly, she might elaborate on whatever it was that she saw. "What do you mean?"

Carmen seems to be looking through him again as she recounts whatever she sees beyond human sight. "It is returning. It is returning through the dark. And then, Doctor... oh, but then..." she pauses, her eyes meeting his again, startlingly clear as she pronounces, "He will knock four times."

And it is a proclamation. The Doctor has heard enough prophecies to know one when he hears it. He wants to ask what any of that even _means_ , but Carmen has already turned away with Lou, too far for him to catch up without making a scene, and looking too sad for him to dare try - he's not sure he'd like the answers she might give him.

He's startled out of his thoughts by a police car pulling up. He turns, eyes finding River without him even having to try. Her eyes catch his as the officers open the rear door for her.

And despite everything, the Doctor can't help but bite back a grin. He really shouldn't - but he finds himself grabbing his sonic before he can think better of it, sonicking the car locks open with a click that the officers don't seem to notice but River most definitely does, arching one eyebrow and giving him an amused look.

Not that she'd needed his help. The second the officers shut one car door, she's opening the other, handcuffs already abandoned somewhere in between.

She turns to the Doctor and winks.

He thinks for one hearts-stopping moment that she's going to change her mind - that she's going to dash toward him and the TARDIS and travel with him - because he couldn't turn her away, not really - not _her_ \- but River runs right past him with a cheeky grin.

The policemen are already shouting, but they don't have a shot of catching her. River runs as though she was born for it.

She heads straight for The Mighty 200, leaping inside and slamming the button to close the doors before the officers can catch up.

One of them is banging on the bus and shouting about River resisting arrest as she laughs and ignores them, settling in the driver's seat and turning on the bus as though she'd never needed the Doctor for anything at all.

The Doctor finds himself wandering closer - waiting to see what River will do next. He leans in to warn the officers, "I'd step back, if I were you," and can't be blamed if his eyes find River's through the front windows of The Mighty 200.

He wonders if she'd open the doors for him, if he asked. Wonders if he ought to ask.

But the angrier officer has taken his warning badly, spinning to the Doctor to announce, "And I'm charging you, too! Aiding and abetting!"

Oh, humans. The Doctor tries to look convincingly innocent, nodding even as he starts to pivot away from the officers and the bus and River. He gestures toward the TARDIS even as he's walking. "Yes, I'll just... step inside this police box and arrest myself."

River grins at him, shaking her head as though she can't believe he got away with that, even as she turns the wheel and smoke bellows out of The Mighty 200 as the diesel engine struggles against its alien technology upgrade.

But The Mighty 200 holds, rising into the sky to shouts - of frustration from the officers and of cheer from its former passengers.

The Doctor pauses at the TARDIS door, glancing up one more time to find River hovering the bus right next to him. She's grinning and he can't help but match her, prophecies be damned. He's never cared about any of that anyway.

River opens the door and leans toward him conspiratorially. "Best bus I've stolen yet, though just between you and me, I think I'll steer well clear of botanical gardens this time."

There's amusement in her eyes that tells the Doctor he's missing some inside joke. He can't help but shake his head and laugh along anyway. "You, Professor Song, are something else entirely."

River's laugher is infectious and indecent, but there's a softness in her eyes that makes him think he said the right thing after all. "Oh, absolutely, sweetie."

She blows him a kiss and flies away, and he can't help but feel as though she stole his exit.

Still, the Doctor feels lighter as he steps into the TARDIS. After all, there're still plenty of things to see before he has to worry about any silly old Ood warnings or possible prophecies.

Maybe he'll start with a botanical garden.


End file.
